Resonance
by Rat Insatiable
Summary: This is a story about five frogs, a dead world, and a giant space flea.
1. Life Signal

When Mois caught the space flea's signal on radar, all five members of the Keroro Platoon dropped everything and left to intercept. No time for notes, excuses, or goodbyes.

One flea was all it took to reduce a planet to hollow ruins. Most alien races enacted measures to prevent contact with them centuries ago, and treaties forged by the more invasive ones covered protection of less-advanced worlds in the not-so-fine print. Military recon teams could be tasked with defending the place they were sent to conquer, or risk having nothing left to work with.

Deflecting the flea's trajectory from the safety of their underground base wasn't an option, as lasers and missiles glanced right off its dense body plating. But while drifting through space, it entered a state of hibernation until it instincts drove it to the right planet. This enabled the platoon to snare it in their ship's electronic net, and drag it far from Earth.

* * *

Keroro leaned back in his seat with his arms behind his head, and propped his feet on the console in front of him. "Looks to me like this'll get wrapped up pretty fast."

"But nothing's been 'wrapped up' yet, not until we reach the disposal point." Giroro stood near Keroro with his arms crossed. "Unless you decide to forget how important this is."

"Of _course_ I know it's important!" Keroro threw his head back against his arms with the force of his eye-roll. "I sat through the same lectures as everyone else to learn about the stupid things. Doin' it is just so _boring._"

Tamama peered around the back of his chair from where he sat at the front of the bridge. "You've done flea extermination before, Sarge?"

"Not really, but I can already tell it's not gonna be much fun." Keroro slouched lower in his seat while Giroro snorted. "Why can't it be good and explode like everything else?"

"What cannot be defeated with brute force must be dealt with through wiser means," said Dororo. Keroro and Giroro noticed the lance corporal standing with them for the first time since leaving Earth, while Tamama stared with zero comprehension.

"He means we need to dump it in the middle of nowhere and shoot hyper-corrosive acid down its throat." Kururu kept his eyes on the navigation hologram from his post next to Tamama. The spiraling arms of the Milky Way gradually receded into the lower corner as Andromeda drew up to meet them. "If we don't set up too many death flags, that is."

Keroro shot forward in his seat and thrust a finger at the sergeant major. "I'll be having none of that 'death flag' talk on this mission, especially since the latest Gundam model goes on sale tomorrow!"

"But of course, Commander." Kururu shrugged, his arms showing from either side of the chair. "Worst case scenario is missin' out on _that_, surely."

"Don't you pull that 'Shirley' nonsense with me!" Keroro sat back in his chair with a huff and crossed his arms. "Honestly, I have enough chores to deal with already."

Dororo took a few steps in Keroro's direction. "But it's our duty as an advanced race to protect Pekopon from disaster."

"Or keep it ripe for invasion, your choice." The hologram masked the reflection of Kururu's smirk.

"We're keeping Fukkii and the others safe, too," Tamama said.

Giroro murmured in agreement, and faced Keroro directly. "It's not like you had anything better to do." His sharp teeth showed with his next words. "Like a certain _other_ mission."

"Your _face_ has nothing better to do, gun nut!" Keroro brandished his pointer finger again. "You're not the one who's about to miss the street date on the latest model, ya dumb red daruma!"

Giroro clenched his teeth and fists and reached Keroro's side in two strides. Dororo moved to intercept a potential scuffle, and Tamama opened the compartment below his control panel to search for popcorn, but Kururu's voice stopped them all.

"Navigator speaking." He drew out the first syllable like a radio announcement. "We are now approaching the target site, Planet XV-Kas. Making contact in... hel-lo."

Keroro knit his brow at the self-interruption. "Kururu?" The entire ship jolted, and he squawked, gripping one arm of his seat with both hands. "What's going on!?"

Kururu's laughter was a little fast. "Looks like our bundle of joy woke up."

* * *

Keroro bolted up from the gritty rock surface. He slowly peered around, wide eyes sweeping the unknown landscape. He looked down and pawed at the ground around him. Gravel, sand and dust, all reddish-brown.

"Guys?"

No answer. The horizon was flat and unchanging in all directions. Rust-colored clouds loomed heavily in the overcast sky. He raised a hand to the rank insignia on his hat. Nothing in those clouds could be healthy, he thought.

He gave the symbol a small turn with his fingertips, and nothing happened.

"Anti-barrier's broken... I better find cover." He scanned the naked red expanse in all directions. The dust shifted in the breeze to cover nothing. "And where _is_ everybody?"

He walked in a random direction, footfalls punctuated by silence. A wind blew in from the direction the storm came from, kicking up a cloud of dust. He threw up an arm and bowed his head to shield his eyes.

He continued on with his mind working. For no discernable reason, the space flea woke up and tore the ship apart. Things were blank after that, but no hull fragments, no flea, and not a single mark on him? There were no bodies, either.

He stumbled, stamped the ground and balled his hands into fists.

"Of _course_ they're alive! Stupid!" The increased force of his footsteps left tiny plumes of dust in is wake. "That's why I'm looking for them. And you call yourself a commander!"

He didn't notice the distance he'd covered until a rumble of thunder caused him to stop and look up at the rusty dark clouds. With all the dust clinging to his skin, he hadn't noticed the change in humidity.

"Gero... this isn't good." Whatever those clouds were made of, he didn't want to deal with it in the abscence of the anti-barrier's environmental protection, marginal as it was. Judging from the lack of visible life, the precipitation was acidic, or worse.

He stood on tiptoe and peered around again. Nothing but flat dusty rock in every direction.

Something cold clenched deep inside him, and worked its way past his throat.

"_Heeey!_" he yelled. "Giroro! Kururu! Tamama! Dororo! _Somebody answer me!_"

A shotgun bang of thunder made him jump, and he sat down hard, heart pounding. He listened, but only softer rumbles came from overhead.

"Maybe they can't hear me." His eyes stung. "Yeah, that's it. They couldn't have landed that far away."

He drew his knees up to his chest and stared at the ground, drawing a circle in the dust with his finger.

"It's nice to think they'd hear me, at least..." He sighed and gazed upward. "May as well just do it for myself, right?"

* * *

Tamama dodged around pillars of weathered rock and scraggly dead trees. He'd woken up less than an hour ago, suspended upside-down by his seatbelt, with his uprooted chair lodged between two boulders. After he'd righted himself and waited for the extra blood to drain from his head, he jogged away from the landing site to search for the others.

He turned on his anti-barrier after seeing the odd-colored storm clouds. Its temporary life-support wasn't absolute protection against whatever chemicals an unknown planet's rain might consist of, but until he could find cover, he had to take what he could get.

"I hope the others aren't far away... 'specially Sarge." He hopped over a narrow crevice without breaking his pace. "Is the whole planet this empty?"

Thunder boomed. Just as he was considering going back to the crevice to use it as shelter, another sound echoed across the canyon.

_Gero gero gero gero..._

He stopped, eyes wide and mouth slack. Then he clasped his hands in front of his chest and squealed, "_Sarge!_" He took off, crushing smaller rocks into dust as he declared, "Hold on, Sargey! Your cute and lovely Tamama is coming to save you!"

Following the sergeant's resonance, Tamama tore over the canyon, his search for shelter completely forgetten.

Then the ground dropped out from under him. The canyon ended in a cliff.

"_Tamaaaaa!_"

Another clap of thunder drowned out his fading scream, and the rain began to fall.

* * *

When Tamama next opened his eyes, it was to a constant dull roar coming from somewhere between his ears, as well as a familiar tapping. His vision was hazy, but it didn't keep him from recognizing the figure sitting a few feet away, and he snapped his eyes shut again.

"Cut the act, I know you're awake."

Tamama groaned. Of all the platoon members to reunite with first, it had to be him.

"You couldn't have hit your head that hard, if you're already conscious." The tapping never ceased. "Still, you may as well use this chance to relax. We're not goin' anywhere soon."

A solitary computer screen illuminated Tamama's redstone surroundings. The cave made for close quarters with its other occupant.

"Kururu, what do you mean?" Tamama gingerly raised himself in stages to mitigate the head rush threatening to pummel him back to oblivion. He succeeded, and gave himself a moment before continuing. "Don't we hafta find Sarge and the others?" He pointed at the scuffed laptop open on the floor. "Can't you track 'em?"

"If I could, do you think we'd be separated?" When Kururu's response was met with an uncomprehending stare, Kururu huffed and gestured at the screen. "Come see for yourself."

Tamama didn't feel like standing. Fortunately, Kururu was only a few Keronian body lengths away, seated against the opposite wall. The private shuffled over on his hands and knees, and Kururu turned the laptop toward him. Tamama squinted against the screen's glare; his headache wasn't making it easy to look at. He blinked several times until the outlines of a terrain map came into view. It was mostly elevated areas with a more distinct line snaking through it, like a canyon. He wasn't sure why it should have been familiar.

"Hey Kururu, where are we?"

Kururu pointed at the right side of the screen. "Right on the northern edge of block B-6. The map function works only as far as this area right now, but that isn't the real issue." He took his hand back and crossed his arms. "It's not showing any life signals at all."

Tamama leaned back from the screen with his hands braced on the floor behind him. "So we can't just go looking..." Then he looked up, eyes wide. "But Sarge is out there! I..."

He stopped and stared at his knees. How _did_ he know? He couldn't remember anything before waking up in the cave minutes ago. Chasing that hope through his fragmented memory only made his head hurt more.

"Or maybe it's not the program's problem." Kururu's low voice broke through the private's thoughts. "Maybe the other life signals aren't showing up because they're dead."

He'd voiced Tamama's fear, and it formed a pit inside him that paled his black skin. Kururu shrugged and turned the laptop back around to continue typing.

"But really, I expected that from the start." Kururu's fingers worked deftly across the keys. "The ship's been torn to pieces, and who knows where that damn flea is."

Tamama's voice came out small. "Can't we send an SOS?"

A smirk briefly altered Kururu's features. "What you see is what we got. It's the one useful thing I found after crashing on this shithole masquerading as a planet. And the tracking system's not the only thing that went out; probably took some unshielded magnetic damage."

Tamama didn't want to process Kururu's words anymore. Being unable to call for help—from the Keron Army, random passing ships, or even Momoka—made reality dark enough. The possibility that the others didn't survive the crash, that his sergeant was—

His sergeant wasn't dead.

Tamama shut his eyes tight. _Denial's not gonna help me now... but what if I'm right? How am I supposed to know?_

Then something leapt to the front of his mind and dispersed the gloom. Tamama couldn't remember much between being on the ship and waking up in the cave, but Kururu probably did.

"Kururu, where'd you end up when we crashed?"

The rapid typing stopped for a split second, then resumed. "Kind of a walk to the west of here, but even if you go you're not gonna find much. Nothin' salvageable there."

"That's fine." Bracing a hand on the wall, Tamama raised himself to his feet, finding it a little easier to move. "I'm gonna go have a look."

"Don't waste too much time out there," Kururu said after the sound of Tamama's retreating footsteps.

* * *

Keroro's resonating cut off with a squeak as the first drop of rust-colored rain soaked through the top of his hat.

"The acid rain's gonna melt me!" Raindrops pockmarked the ground at lazy intervals as he ran in increasingly faster circles. Then the downpour began in earnest, and he doubled his circling speed. "_Gero!_ What a world, what a—"

He stopped and stared at his hands. The raindrops cut dark rivulets through the dust discoloring his skin, but did nothing else.

"Oh, it's just dirty." He jabbed a finger at the clouds. "Don't scare me like that!"

Lightning struck the ground less than twenty feet away, and he shrieked.

"I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry!" He sprinted across the flatland, kicking up a constant wave of reddish mud behind him. That is, until he slipped and slid even faster over the rain-slick rock, screaming the whole way. The edge of the plateau rushed out from under his feet so fast he didn't realize what happened until he realized he was hovering in midair above a chasm.

Then logic and gravity teamed up on him.

He flailed at the air and rain rushing above him with two grasping hands, then something slammed into his middle, diverting his direction. After a few more seconds of being jerked around in high-speed flight, he found himself placed feet-first back on solid ground.

"Commander! Are you all right?"

Keroro's vision took turns spinning halfway in either direction, and when he tried to face the voice, he lost his balance and sat down hard.

"Commander?" A worried and familiar face moved into Keroro's line of sight. He looked up, watching a brow furrow over one of the speaker's blue eyes. "Can you hear m—"

Keroro sprang up and clung to his rescuer. "_Dororo!_"

"Keroro?" Dororo shifted his balance to keep from stumbling, and his childhood friend took a sobbing breath and hugged him harder. Dororo gently returned the embrace. "I'm glad you're all right."

After a moment, Keroro calmed himself and released his friend, stepping back for a quick head-to-toe appraisal. Dororo was rather sodden from rain and smudged with dirt, but appeared to be unhurt.

"Looks like you made it out in one piece," Keroro remarked.

Dororo nodded. "It's a miracle we both survived the crash unharmed."

"Do you know where the others are? Have you seen them?" Keroro leaned in towards Dororo a little.

"I cannot be sure." Dororo looked down the length of the narrow canyon. "I'm sensing their presence, but it's difficult to pin down..." He pointed ahead. "Kururu and Tamama seem to be somewhere in that direction."

Keroro beamed and bounced a little. "Awright! Let's find 'em right away." He started walking with jaunty, leader-like steps. "Maybe we can pick up Giroro on the way, too!" He breezed past Dororo, who uttered a few wordless syllables, then gave up and followed his commander. "Man! If that red daruma's been sittin' around while I've been struggling out here on my own, I'm gonna give him a piece of my mind!"

"Commander, Giroro is still—"

"Or what if he's completely in the opposite direction of the other two? Then we'll hafta walk even _more!_"

"Commander!" Dororo placed a hand on Keroro's shoulder, who stopped to face him with annoyance. He softened a little when he saw Dororo's eyes locked onto his with unusual intensity. "I don't know where Giroro is."

Keroro's remaining irritation slid off his face. "What? Can't you sense his presence or something? How far is he?"

"He could be farther out than the others." Dororo let his hand drop from Keroro's shoulder. "Or perhaps something happened to him."

Tensity returned to Keroro's expression, until he waved an arm. "No way! This is the guerilla war survival fanboy we're talking about. One little crash-landing's not gonna do him in." His _gero-gero-gero_ struck the canyon walls. He continued walking, arms folded behind his head with elbows sticking up.

Dororo kept pace beside him. "I hope so." He nodded to indicate ahead of them. "Before we search for the others, I'll lead us back to a shelter I landed by. It's not far, and there's food and water."

Keroro turned on Dororo, hat flaps whirling. "You landed next to _food?_ Not even the chair I was strapped to landed with me!"

"Well, that's... strange." Dororo searched the ground as he walked. "But perhaps not as strange as the food storage itself. This is supposed to be—"

"A dead planet." Keroro put a hand to his chin. "Have you seen anything else here besides us?"

The ninja shook his head. "This world is barren." He looked at the dark sky through the narrow passage mitigating the rain coming into the canyon. "The space flea is only attracted to worlds with..." His eyes widened. "The food storage might be a remnant of a past civilization."

"Yeah, maybe." Keroro kicked a pebble down the path. "But what's that got to do with anything? Whoever was here before is long gone."

"The point is that they _were_ here. Maybe it's drawn to traces of past life, as well."

Keroro grumbled. "Still not a good enough reason for it to strand us here."

Their moist footsteps and the rain dripping down the canyon walls filled the lapse in conversation. The silence didn't last long, however, as Keroro groaned aloud.

"I'm starviiiing! How much longer 'til we get there?"

"Not long," Dororo replied. "In fact, as soon as we come out of the canyon, you should see a building—"

"Is it that?" Keroro piped up, standing on tiptoe and pointing at a dull grey dome in the distance, poking up from behind one of the gradually lowering canyon walls. At Dororo's nod, Keroro jumped and punched the air. "_Yahoo!_ Last one there gets to eat Type G!" With that declaration, he took off for the building at top speed.


	2. Gallows Humor

_Thank you SO MUCH for the reviews! They made me feel all awesome inside._

* * *

Tamama wrinkled his nose at the smell outside, like a rusted scrapheap after a rainstorm. It nagged at him in a way he felt he should remember. Instead of dwelling on it while his head still hurt, he decided to start walking and stretch his legs.

The overcast sky evened out the light compared to the dim cave and eased his headache a little. As he walked along the rocky landscape, he noticed it was populated by tan shrubs with darker rounded tips on their myriad tiny stems, giving the impression of leafy life. He touched it, only to find them brittle enough to turn to dust. Plant corpses.

Turning away from that sordid subject greeted him with a new discovery. He walked up to a square plastic lid the length of his forearm. The Keron Army logo was visible on its surface.

He took it and turned it over in his hands. "Just like the one from our ship..."

Scanning the area ahead more closely, he noticed other objects sticking out in the brown-redness. Less than ten paces away was a length of mud-soaked gauze, neatly trimmed at one end and ripped at the other. A small cylindrical object caught against a dead bush's protruding root system caught his eye, and he pattered over to it.

He picked up the labeled plastic container. "Medicine?" It was empty, which meant the whitish spots near his feet were the dissolved remains of its contents. Tamama put the pill bottle down and stood, looking for anything else that might have dropped from the ship.

A short walk rewarded Tamama with a small clearing free of bushes and full of debris. He recognized the overturned chair, its seatbelt

cut as if by a knife. Spatters of something dark stained its surface. Fragments of twisted green metal from the hull of the platoon's craft lay nearby.

"This must be where Kururu said he landed." As he scanned the area, he saw something that made his heart leap. "There it is!" He bounded towards his discovery, but stumbled to a stop at the opposite side of the clearing.

A first-aid kit was mired in the mud, lidless end first.

He sank to his knees and placed his hands on either side of the upturned plastic box, pulling it free. Nearly everything useful was ruined except for a roll of gauze on top of the mess.

Tamama picked it up, rubbing lightly at the frayed end with one finger, then slipped it under his cap. One useful thing salvaged was better than nothing at all.

Clear-headed and more optimistic, he decided to keep exploring.

* * *

Kururu's fingers typed an automatic rhythm, reconstructing the map program from mental and muscle memory. The code advanced line by line in a panel on the left side of the screen, while he focused on the real-time changes in the window to the right. The data loss from the crash had left him working with a fragmented program, but since it was his creation, all it took was time to get it running properly again.

So he told himself. He had no way of knowing if the lack of life signals was a result of magnetic damage, or if it was, in fact, working perfectly. In either case, he was looking for a signal apart from the ones he monitored on a daily basis.

It couldn't have gotten far. It was the first thing he saw when he woke up, after all.

He was already hundreds of lines deep in rewriting. Two lines from completion, the right panel filled every grid on the map with blinking red dots, then refreshed to redraw it in a flash. A yellow dot showing his location winked into existence as he completed the final line.

He enlarged the right panel to fullscreen, and zoomed out twice to find Tamama's current location a meager distance to the north. The private had found his way to Kururu's crash site, and appeared to be meandering about.

"The hell's he think he's doing?" Kururu hit the zoom key again for a closer look. An arrow flashing in the upper-right corner indicated another signal detected off-screen, distracting him from Tamama's blinking black dot. A few quick taps of another key zoomed out the map until he could see what it was.

This dot's color wasn't any of the ones assigned to allies, and moved towards Tamama at a rate of fifty yards every three seconds.

Kururu swore under his breath and opened a comm link with a lightning-fast key combination. "This had better still work..." He connected with Tamama and ordered, "Get your ass back here. That thing's about ten seconds from finding you and chewing your face off."

A few seconds of unresponsive static, then a perplexed, "Why? What thing? What're you talkin' about..."

The static returned. On the map, the black dot stopped moving, and the enemy signal took another leap toward it.

Tamama's incredulous squeal cut through Kururu's headphones. "It can _jump?!_"

Kururu struck the ground next to the laptop with his fist. "No shit it can jump!" Tamama replied with stammering whimpers. The map couldn't express the comparison between him and an alien flea the size of a Pekoponian house. "Now get outta there already, it's not like you can fight it any—"

Tamama's wordless vocalizations crescendoed. "_Tamama Impact!_"

Kururu massaged the area above the bridge of his glasses with two fingers. He sighed and shifted back from his computer, watching as the black dot jumped spastically to avoid the constant lunges of the large orange one. He unfolded his legs from the tucked-in position he'd had them in for hours, and hunched his shoulders at the pins and needles of departing numbness.

He turned his eyes to the dust-covered dressing around his lower right leg. He started to bend it inward, but stopped with a hiss of breath. _Painkillers're wearin' off._ Kururu looked up at the screen. Tamama was heading for the cave, but his spotty progress and constant yelping very likely meant the flea was trying to make a meal of him.

After another moment, Tamama managed to get a small gain on the flea, and stopped. Kururu grunted and leaned toward the laptop again.

A deep breath over the comm link. "Tamama..." The flea closed the short distance, nearly overlapping with the black dot. "_Impact!_"

The sound of energy discharging crackled through Kururu's headphones, and the black dot darted away from the flea. Once Kururu realized what Tamama was doing, he faced the cave entrance and waited. Sure enough, Tamama shot through the opening tail-over-teakettle, somersaulted across the floor, and slammed into the wall.

Kururu tucked his legs in, crossing the left one over the right to cover the bandage. "So, are you finished with your happy little expedition?"

Tamama groaned with his feet hanging over his face. "Kururuuu, ya gotta _tell_ people when there's stuff like giant demonic space bugs around!"

Kururu scratched his chin with one hand. "Ahh, I did forget to mention that one tiny detail..." He smirked at Tamama over the top of his screen as the private slowly righted himself. "Did it jog your memory?"

Tamama rubbed his abused skull with one hand. "I remember we were on the ship to take the flea somewhere we could kill it. Sarge wanted to make Gundam models 'til we got there, but Giroro said he left 'em outta the luggage on purpose so he wouldn't—"

Kururu gestured at him to move further ahead.

"Oh. After we crashed, I..." Tamama's expression screwed up in concentration for several seconds, then he slapped both hands to his face and groaned loudly. "I can't remember!"

"So you went flying off a cliff like something straight out of a Pekoponian cartoon." Kururu returned to working on the program. "And here we are.

Tamama sat in silence for several long minutes after losing another match to memory loss. He didn't remember anything about a cliff, but it explained why his head had hurt so much.

He reached up to touch the bump, but found a different one first and gasped a little. "Oh yeah!" Reaching under the close-fitting material of his hat, he extracted the roll of gauze. "Hey Kururu, look what I found! It was by the first-aid kit. I think all the other stuff in it got messed up, though."

The sound of busy typing filled the lull after Tamama finished talking. Advancing lines of code reflected on the left lens of Kururu's glasses as his gaze never left the screen. Miffed, Tamama turned one side to Kururu and sat with his back against the rough cave wall. He looked down at the gauze on its wide plastic spool, turning it in his hands. The frayed end slowly moved out of sight, then came back into view from underneath.

He stopped fiddling with it and stared. Somehow a length of gauze had ended up on the ground a distance from the crash site, along with the pill bottle. Only those two things were separated from the rest of the first-aid supplies.

After mentally retreading the path of his exploration, something felt very wrong.

"Kururu, what happened?"

Kururu's disinterested murmur floated over the sound of his fingers tapping the keys. "Whaddya mean?"

"I mean after you crashed." Tamama looked at him. The sergeant major's expression was as difficult to read as ever in the poor lighting. "Something happened, didn't it? You didn't just get up and decide to camp out here, did you?"

"Yep, that's pretty much how it went," Kururu speedily confirmed.

Tamama huffed and arrived at Kururu's side in a few steps. "Oh yeah? Well explain _this!_" He thrust out the spool in one hand, holding it a few inches from Kururu's face. Kururu glanced at the ratty-ended gauze for a second, then looked back at the screen to type some more. The private's tail practically curled with anger.

He threw the gauze down beside him and stomped a foot. "If you're gonna be like that, then—"

"You should be more worried about why the flea woke up in the first place."

Tamama's growing tirade died. "Tama?"

Kururu's fingertips beat out a steady pattern. "The entire point of carting that thing to a dead planet is so it can be killed without giving it a chance to put up a fight."

Tamama nodded slowly; no life, no attracting signal, no reason for the flea to wake up. "So, why did it...?"

Kururu shrugged his shoulders without his hands ceasing their work. "Beats me. Best reason I can think of is that this place, at some point, had life on it. Probably not that long ago."

XV-Kas was little more than a huge wasteland as far as Tamama was concerned, but he took Kururu's word for it. Maybe those dried-up shrubs weren't as ancient as they looked.

Kururu's rhythmic typing ceased after he tapped one last key three times, and rested his hands on his legs. "Now I have good news, and expected news."

Tamama sat back with his legs crossed and leaned forward with his hands on his knees. "'Expected?'"

"Good news is our guest decided to go screw off, at least for now." Kururu turned the laptop to Tamama, showing their location in the middle, empty wasteland for hundreds of miles around, and the space flea's dot leaping away from their vicinity at a good clip. "As for what's expected... no one else is showin' up, unless you think they survived this long at the polar extremes."

"Maybe it's broken," Tamama protested. "You said you'd lost some data—"

"And I just got done writing it back in." Kururu crossed his arms, lifting a hand to adjust his glasses. "If you wanna go out lookin' for Commander and the others yourself, go right ahead. I could use the alone time."

"You stupid jerk!" Tamama's shout resounded harshly in the small space. "They're not dead! _Sarge isn't dead!_"

Kururu put a hand to his chest as though gravely struck. "Now you're puttin' words in my mouth." He tutted. "I never actually _said_ they were dead. Just implied it."

Tamama let out an enraged roar and launched himself at Kururu, pinning him against the wall. Kururu planted two hands on Tamama's face and a foot on his stomach to keep the private's clawing fingers just out of reach.

"You heartless bastard!" Tamama berated his superior officer through the tears welling up in his eyes. "How can you even _joke_ about that!"

"Never heard of gallows humor?" Kururu grunted as a burst of strength from Tamama forced his arms back and made his elbows bang against the wall. "Besides, it's better than—dammit, would you get off!"

Far from listening, Tamama grabbed one of Kururu's arms in one hand and tried to push it away from his face, and grasped the leg Kururu wasn't using in his other hand.

Kururu yelped and extracted himself from Tamama's grip very quickly, backing off several paces. Tamama lost his balance in the empty space and caught himself with his hands on the wall. He looked over to where Kururu had escaped, seeing him doubled over with both hands on his leg.

Without looking up to face him, Kururu muttered between breaths, "That _hurts,_ you idiot."

In the light of the laptop screen, Tamama saw the bandage wrapped around Kururu's lower right leg. When Kururu lifted a hand to examine it, Tamama couldn't tell if the dark substance staining his palm was dirt, or something else.

Tamama's mouth opened and closed a few times, then he got his act together and scrambled for the gauze he'd discarded on the floor.

"Oh man, I'm sorry!" Tamama brushed flecks of red soil off the spool, hastily examining it to make sure it wasn't too dirty. "I didn't know you were... here, lemme get that for you."

"What do you plan to fix with just bandages?" Kururu's words halted Tamama, who was already halfway to him with a few inches of gauze rolled out in one hand. "What's the point? There's no disinfectant. We don't even have clean water."

A single lesson from the numerous lectures of junior military school rushed from the catacombs of memory to the front of Tamama's mind.

"Yes we do." He grasped an earflap in one hand. "Our hats, they're s'posed to be able to filter water and make it drinkable."

Kururu stared. "You're kidding."

Tamama scratched his cheek with one finger. "Well, they said it was only for a _very_ last resort, but that's kinda where we're at now." He rolled the gauze up and placed it down carefully. "Be right back!" He sped out of the cave and into the dusky wasteland.

Kururu looked at his palm again, then rubbed it on the ground. "Damn kid."


	3. A Cappella

_Thanks again for the views and reviews. I love reading about readers' anticipations for this story._

* * *

Keroro held the dried-up husk of an alien rodent between thumb and forefinger at arm's length. "You call _this_ food?"

Dororo shrugged, palms up. "We'll have to make do. I looked around, but it seems to be all that's stockpiled here, aside from drinking water."

The domed metal building was spacious by Keronian standards, but so sparsely furnished, their voices echoed if they spoke above a whisper. The stockpile Dororo mentioned was evidently more impressive at one point; short, clear cylinders lined the edges of the room, most overturned and emptied. Luminescent orbs floating stationary by the walls cast a warm yellow glow on the two Keronians as they stood by one of the few untouched containers.

Keroro made a face at the food that was left, still holding it by the end of its stiff three-pronged tail. "Well, if we've got water, maybe we can boil the grossness outta this roadkill."

"I think I have a better idea." Dororo moved swiftly into the darkness between lights, and reappeared with a zigzag of metal in his hands.

Keroro blinked at it. "What's that?"

Dororo squatted down and placed the object on the floor. "It appears to be a heating element made specifically for cooking these rations." He pointed to the straight piece that stuck out a few inches above the zigzag base.

Keroro tilted his head a little to one side, but handed the dried rodent to Dororo. "So how do you turn it on?"

Dororo slid the ration onto the spit, fitting it snugly through a thin premade hole in its body, then lowered himself to study the cooking device. "There must be a way to... ah!" He found and pressed a tiny pressure-sensitive button beneath one of the corners. He'd scarcely pulled his hand away when the heating element started glowing a bright orange. Within seconds, an unfamiliar but pleasant smell filled the air.

"Is it done yet," came Keroro's monotone inquiry, his eyes riveted on the meat.

Dororo shook his head. "We should wait a little longer. I only just—"

Keroro's arm zipped out in a green blur and swiped the dead animal off the spit. He hot-potatoed the ration between his hands while blowing on it, and before Dororo could stop him, Keroro took a bite. He yelped and flung it out of his mouth, only to catch it in midair and continue chowing down. He made quick work of the deboned creature, switching between holding the meat in one hand while flapping the other to cool it.

Watching this, Dororo forgot any admonishment he had in mind. He knelt with his legs underneath him, conveying his masked smile through his voice. "We should be able to survive off these, as long as we conserve..."

Dororo's voice squeaked a little as he trailed off; Keroro wasn't there. The sergeant was halfway into the open food bin, and came back to dump an armload of dried rodents in front of the heating element.

"Do all these next!" Keroro commanded, his anticipatory drool already pooling on the floor.

Dororo's eyes widened. "Commander, we have to use this carefully! We'll need to save some for our search, as well as what we're taking to the others. They might not have any food with them."

Keroro's eyes refocused, and he wiped saliva off his chin. "Gero... you're right. Let's get our bearings first." He sat cross-legged on the floor and handed a rodent to Dororo, holding it upright by its tail. "You said you kinda knew where Tamama and Kururu were, right? How far do you think they are from here?"

Dororo accepted the meat as Keroro spoke, placing it so deftly on the still-activated heating device that he didn't risk burning his hand in the slightest. "It's rather far to walk, but since we'll be traveling light, we could probably make it in a day. Maybe less."

A thin line of smoke rose from the meat, and Dororo glanced up at his commander. Keroro gestured at him to take it, and Dororo gave a small nod before removing the rodent from the spit by its tail with trained swiftness.

Keroro sighed. "My feet are already startin' to hurt just thinkin' about it..." He picked up another rodent while Dororo ate and gingerly nudged it onto the glowing orange metal. "But what really gets me is that you can ninja-sense me, Tamama, and Kururu, but not Giroro for some reason." He crossed his arms. "That survival nut oughta be thriving in these conditions..."

Dororo nodded. "I was thinking the same thing. If we regroup with Kururu and Tamama, we might be able to locate Giroro more easily." He paused to remove the freshly-cooked meat for Keroro and handed it to him, speaking while his commander chewed. "But as far as sensing distant life energy goes, it has only been those two."

Keroro stopped to uncomfortably swallow the piece he'd just bitten off whole. "Then... how did you know where to find me?"

"Wasn't that your intention?" Dororo replied. "When you resonated?"

"When I was..." Keroro lowered his partly-eaten meat and stared at the floor.

"You were too far for me to sense, but your resonance carried just beyond that. I went in the direction it came from, and..."

"And here we are." Keroro put a hand to his chin. "Which means it's actually easier to do _that_ to find out where everyone is!" He hopped to his feet and motioned for Dororo to do the same.

Dororo stood more slowly, furrowing a brow at his commander. "Are you sure it would reach far enough to..." Keroro was already at one of the two open entrances in the dome. Dororo sighed and resigned himself to standing at the other.

The night air was cool and still, laden with moisture from the rain earlier that day. Rusty cloud cover, now sporting small patches of open sky here and there, allowed some starlight to reflect upon the muddy wasteland.

_Gero gero gero gero..._

_Doro doro doro doro..._

There were no rustling leaves or crickets to accompany them, but it made their duet no less comforting.

* * *

Tamama returned from his short second trip outside to direct something that'd just occurred to him at Kururu.

"Hey, did you actually not know about the hat water filter?" The private leaned in from one side of the entrance at an angle. "I thought everyone went through the same lectures in training. Even that little orange thing you're wearing should work."

"This isn't military issue," Kururu explained, arms crossed and eyes on the laptop screen. "And what makes you think I'd be caught wearing one of those stupid dog-eared things?"

Tamama rolled his eyes and sighed, then ducked away from the entrance. "Anyways, I got us some water."

He padded in with light steps, his previous headache all but vanished. In his arms was the lid from the first-aid kit, clear water threatening to wobble over its sides with every movement.

As Tamama moved into the range of the laptop's light, Kururu looked up from where he sat and failed to stifle a snort. "Looks like you stole Giroro's hat."

"Tama?" The private stopped to carefully set the water-laden lid on the ground near Kururu, then placed his hands on his sodden hat as he straightened back up. "What're you talkin' about?"

Kururu just snickered behind his hand, but Tamama's eyes widened after he grabbed both earflaps and pulled them in front of his face. "Wow, it _does_ look just like it!" Aside from the chevron symbol, filtering the dirt-laden water through the light yellow cap had darkened it to a shade of burgundy nearly identical to Giroro's.

"Is this all you could get out of it?" Kururu glanced at the lid. "Your last-ditch filter looks pretty used up to me."

Tamama shook his head, wet earflaps swaying. "It's okay. Even if it changes color, all the bad stuff it filters out stays in. Look." He squeezed a flap in one hand, and a few clear drops trickled down his arm.

Kururu hummed with moderate interest. "So the meat shield _does_ have another use."

Tamama pursed his lips in a pout. "You could be just a tiny bit more grateful! I got that water for both of us." He turned and jogged out of the cave, calling over his shoulder, "Don't do anything with it yet! I'm gonna get some more."

After Tamama vanished into the night, Kururu moved the laptop closer to the lid of water to get a chemical reading. A small indicator popped up at the bottom of the screen, then disappeared; nothing harmful was present.

He wondered if the three older platoon members knew their hats doubled as emergency water filters. Giroro had to know, being a guerrilla survival expert, and top assassin Dororo was a close second. And their commander—

He shook his head to dispel the thought. None of them appeared on the radar, even after multiple repairs. Since he and Tamama landed in the middle of a huge continent not far from each other, it stood to reason that the others would've been close as well. The program detected platoon members by their forehead rank insignias.

_So they either bit it, or the insignias are malfunctioning somehow._ Kururu's hands hovered over the keyboard, unmoving. _But how the hell do you crash-land and only break _that_ without killing yourself?_

He placed his hands back in his lap, fingers curled inward. But he couldn't stop them from twitching.

"I'm back!"

Kururu looked up as Tamama trotted in with the bottom part of the first-aid kit in his arms. Objects jostled around inside the container with the private's steps, and thin streaks of muddy water decorated its sides.

"I went back to check what was left, and I found stuff inside the compartments that was still okay." Tamama set down his load and took out a plastic bottle, already filled with clean water. Next he produced a handful of individually-wrapped gauze pads. "And then I remembered we had those hidden spaces under our seats..."

Kururu guessed what Tamama was talking about before the private held up a foil-wrapped Type G energy bar. It was emblazoned with the Keron Military logo on one side, and a list of three vastly overcooked ingredients on the other.

"That thing's probably older than both of us," Kururu said.

Tamama turned the ration bar over in his hand a few times. It showed no signs of aging from the outside. "Well, it's the only food we got for now."

He dropped it back in and grabbed a couple of the wrapped gauze pads before sliding the container off to one side. He leaned back to retrieve the gauze roll from the floor, and settled himself next to the water-filled lid by Kururu.

"Okay, first thing's first." Tamama stared down at the supplies in his hands, steeling himself. "We gotta do something about your leg."

"Did you bring a saw?"

Tamama's head snapped up, eyes wide. Kururu laughed and shifted around to offer his bandaged leg to Tamama. "Just sayin', you could skip quite a few steps that way."

Tamama looked down at the dirt-stained bandage. Swallowing back the lump in his throat, he placed the medical supplies in his lap and reached out with two shaking hands. They stopped a few inches from the bandage while Tamama chewed at his lower lip.

"Oh, for fuck's sake." Kururu grabbed one of Tamama's wrists and pulled until the younger Keronian's palm was flat on the bandage. "There. Now can we get this over with?"

Tamama stammered an apology and got to work. The torn-off end was tucked in at the top, so he eased it loose and unraveled, wrapping the material loosely over one hand. Kururu remained quiet with his hands at his sides. It didn't take long to reveal a long gash, though it wasn't deep as far as Tamama could tell.

Then the bandage got stuck. Kururu tensed at the sudden tug, and Tamama's hands froze as he looked up at him. Kururu gave him a curt nod and braced his hands on the ground. Tamama inhaled slowly, then coaxed the blood-clotted fibers loose from the wound in small, steady increments. After the last bit came unstuck, the rest of the bandage slid off.

Tamama placed the bandage in a pile to one side and glanced at Kururu. His fingers were half-clenched into the dirt.

The private hesitated. "Does it hurt that bad?"

"Nahhh, this feels _awesome_. Remind me to set my other leg on fire." Kururu's smirk was more strained than his voice.

Returning his eyes to his work, Tamama ripped open one of the gauze packets, dipped the cloth square in the lid's water, and dabbed the wound. As he cleaned the spot where the old bandage had gotten stuck, blood trickled freely again. Tamama tore the second packet open with his teeth and pressed the new gauze onto the spot, holding it in place with one hand while picking up the bandage roll in the other. He wound it around Kururu's leg, tore it neatly from the spool with a quick martial arts-empowered flick, and tied it off securely.

Tamama sat back and rubbed an arm across his forehead. A newfound confidence in first-aid had replaced his initial anxiety. "All done! If we keep this up, it'll get better in..." He realized he'd spent the last several minutes in silence. "Kururu?"

Kururu hadn't changed his tense posture from the last time he'd spoken, staring at a patch of dirt somewhere off to Tamama's right.

Then he faced the private again, casual as anything. "You sure you couldn't find a saw?"

Tamama sighed.

* * *

As hungry as he was, Tamama could withstand no more than a few nibbles of the energy bar. Type G rations supposedly kept forever, but whatever process they went through to reach that immortal state did nothing for its flavor. He was able to drink enough water to satisfy his thirst, however, and it was easy enough to get more.

Kururu turned down the ration, and went back to work at his computer instead. It didn't take long for Tamama to notice the lack of incessant tapping.

"Are you already done fixin' everything?" No answer broke the long pause, so Tamama scooted over to see the tracking program displaying the planet's northern hemisphere. "Doesn't look like anything's changed..."

"What do you expect?" Kururu shot back. "Ya think the rest are gonna show up here, ridin' the flea like a show pony?" Tamama clenched his fists tightly in his lap. "Maybe they'll even bring us some booze. It'll be a helluva party then."

"_Shut up!_" Tamama's voice cracked.

Kururu turned away from the laptop to face him. "I'm only entertaining your insipid fantasy that everything is fine and dandy." He enunciated his next words with grating deliberation. "Like we're not the unlucky bastards who get to die last."

Tamama rose to his feet, rigid and trembling. "You can't prove anyone's dead! Sarge is out there, I _know_ he is!"

Kururu pointed sharply at the entrance. "Then lead the way, amnesiac. Maybe you'll find him at the bottom of another cliff."

Tamama sucked in a noisy breath to retaliate, and ended up holding it for the next several seconds.

Outside the cave, two voices echoed across the wasteland, a leader and an old friend. Their resonance reached across dead earth, over rocky outcroppings, and just within earshot of two other survivors.

Tamama and Kururu stared at each other, the former visibly wide-eyed. Then, rushing not to lose a chance that might never again present itself, the private dashed out of the cave.

_Tama tama tama tama..._

Kururu stared at the keyboard. Denial after denial crossed his mind. Logical explanations, every single one.

He rejected them all.

_Kuru kuru kuru kuru..._

Tamama's resonance was joined by Kururu's twisting syllables emerging from the cave, both rising to combine with the other two in a brief quartet. It lasted a few seconds before the first pair faded out, the second quieting soon after.

With their voices still ringing in their ears, Tamama walked back inside and sat next to Kururu, drawing his knees up close to himself. "Please tell me that was real."

Kururu looked back at him and chuckled. "You're the one who's been sayin' as much this whole time." He turned back to his laptop and opened one of his headphones with a pronounced _clack_. A wire snaked out to plug itself into his computer.

"Besides Sarge, I'm pretty sure I heard Dororo, too." Tamama stared at the ground, gripping his drawn-up legs in his arms. "I guess Giroro didn't hear us... but it sounded like they were together." He looked up at Kururu with a fierce glint in his eyes. "Maybe they're not too far from here!"

The wire clicked out of the laptop to retract into the headphones, the open half closing itself, and Kururu wiggled his fingers over the keys. "Let's find out."


	4. Do You Remember?

_As always, your reviews are much appreciated. Enjoy this next chapter._

* * *

Dororo was now doubly sure where to find two of his fellow platoon members. It turned out that Keronian resonance was not only calming to the heart, but a viable location method as well.

_I think I've heard of it being used like this before._ He rounded up food and water from the shelter's remaining supplies with Keroro as he reflected. _Perhaps in ancient Keron history, before we became dominant even on our own planet._

"Commander, we won't get far carrying that much." Dororo didn't know where Keroro had found a Japanese-style carrying cloth, but the sergeant had filled it to twice his size with rations and slung it over his shoulders like a big round backpack. "We need to travel much lighter than that."

"What!?" Keroro sprang back a step, causing several dried rodents to slip out and bounce across the floor. "But I thought we needed food for Kururu and Tamama, too!"

"Yes, but if we want to reach them quickly, we have to take less." Dororo picked the fallen rodents and dropped them into an open storage container. "I expect we'll find them in a day, maybe two at most. With any luck, they'll head in our direction as well, and we'll meet them halfway."

Keroro hefted the stuffed carrying cloth over his head and onto the floor with an echoing thump, and sighed. "Yeah, I hope so." He kicked a dried rodent lying near his feet to roll towards Dororo, who placed it in the container before approaching the overstuffed cloth. Grasping it together, the two of them moved it next to the container, and set to work lowering their travel rations to a more reasonable amount.

After a quiet moment, Keroro snickered. "I just had a funny thought. We heard Tamama and Kururu pretty close together, didn't we?"

Dororo nodded. "It's good they're not alone."

"But I was wondering." Keroro couldn't resist a grin. "How're they getting along out there with just the two of them?"

Dororo paused, then continued thinning out their supplies. "I'm sure they're working together just fine. In a critical situation, they'll—"

"If Tamama doesn't snap and tear Kururu limb from limb first, Kururu'll probably break his poor little mind in some really twisted way." Keroro hunched his shoulders and shuddered. "Yeesh! I don't even wanna think about it."

Dororo stopped and stared at his commander. Then Keroro laughed.

"No use thinkin' of a worst-case scenario, right?" He plopped down to sit, the carrying cloth now much emptier than before, and poked the remaining rations closer to the middle. "Well, fighting or not, they'll probably be on the move pretty soon, so we should finish up and get going."

"Indeed." Dororo placed two slim cylindrical water canteens he'd found alongside the small pile of dried meat and the lightweight heating unit, and tied the bundle closed with a large knot. "But there's a lot of ground to cover, and I believe we'll be better off traveling in daylight. For now, we should—"

The sound of grinding teeth combined with snoring stopped Dororo mid-sentence. Keroro was slumped halfway into the open food container, evidently in the middle of reaching for a snack when exhaustion caught up with him.

Dororo gently lifted Keroro out and sat him against the wall under the glow of one of the suspended orbs. He took out a small object hidden behind the sheath of his ninja sword, and with a flick of his wrist, unfolded a Keron-made military-issue emergency blanket. He expanded it enough to accommodate two Keronians; size-changing was one of its standard features.

He sat against the wall next to Keroro and drew the blanket around them. The temperature within the shelter was only slightly cool, but the blanket would keep theirs stable while they rested. Keroro shifted in his sleep to lean against Dororo's shoulder.

"Keroro, do you remember?" Dororo's voice was quiet enough that it didn't reverberate inside the spacious dome. "A long time ago, when the three of us went camping? It was supposed to be Giroro's first try at survival training, but you begged to go with him, and he finally gave in."

He closed his eyes, and Keroro's snoring faded into the background.

"You made me come along, too, because you wanted to use the Pekopon-imported camping gear my father bought. Of course, I was more than happy to join in. I thought it would be..."

After a long silence, Dororo slipped out from underneath the blanket.

"Giroro was kind enough to tell me," he said while standing, "that you were the one who put the space hornet's nest in my sleeping bag."

Completely oblivious, Keroro murmured random letters and numbers; _M S M zero four_. Dororo sighed, then jumped silently on top of the closed food container next to his commander. He sat in a meditating position and closed his eyes, preparing to conserve energy for the next day.

One stray thought leaving his mind on his way into the trance was, _Giroro, do you remember?_

The image of a young Giroro from the camping trip was replaced with an all-too-recent memory of the corporal falling with him towards rusty earth.

* * *

Tamama was convinced that Kururu was some sort of headphones-cyborg. The sound file created from Keroro and Dororo's resonance played back on the laptop as real as life, like the sergeant major had uploaded it directly from his mind.

The screen also displayed the direction the resonance had traveled from. When linked to the map program, new tracking details appeared in the form of a blinking double-arrow, indicating to some point outside the current zoomed-in range.

Tamama's mouth dropped open, then he smiled so hard it hurt. "It sees them now!"

"Don't celebrate just yet." Kururu zoomed out and changed the map's centering with different key presses, watching the direction of the arrows change to accommodate by small degrees. "It's still not sensing life signs." Tamama's face fell. "Which means that one or both of their rank insignias're broken. I can see that happening to Commander, but Dororo..." He put one hand to his chin and continued map operations with the other.

Tamama crossed his arms. "But how do you figure Sarge broke his—"

Kururu held up a hand for silence, and Tamama clamped his mouth shut. The hand swiftly returned to the keyboard as Kururu used both to type a new section of code. Tamama watched him work furiously, line after line of symbols appearing in the left panel. It was all gibberish to Tamama, but the new driving energy to Kururu's movements was translation enough.

The map flashed and restored itself as changes instantly applied. Tamama held his breath—and flinched at an error sound one second later.

Kururu furrowed his brow and glared at the message onscreen. "'Life sign capacity exceeded...' dammit, I _knew_ that was it."

Tamama read the notice and frowned. "I don't get it. Couldn't you just add everything back with no problems before?"

"That's damaged hardware for you." Kururu sighed a little and adjusted his glasses before adding a few characters to nullify the newly-inserted code, then closed the panel.

Tamama scooted a few feet away, sweeping his hands across a dusty patch of cave floor as Kururu performed some additional tasks on the laptop. "So what do we do now?"

Kururu finished setting parameters in the map program for hibernation mode before resting a hand above the laptop screen. "Sleep. We got a lotta ground to cover tomorrow." He closed the laptop, plunging the cave into darkness.

Hope warmed Tamama's insides, and he tried to make himself as comfortable as he could on solid rock. After much shifting, he ended up curled on his side with his arms cushioning his head.

"Gunight," Tamama said, unable to weed the enthusiasm out of his voice. Kururu didn't reply, but Tamama didn't expect him to. With their light source extinguished, he couldn't see if Kururu was moving around. He didn't hear anything from him, either.

He had a mental image of Kururu lying right beside him in absolute darkness, waiting for him to look over his shoulder and right into that sinister grin. _Are you cold, Tama-kins?_

Tamama nearly had a heart attack when something bonked against the far wall, followed by hissed swearing. As he realized what it was, he clamped his hands over his mouth to prevent laughter from escaping. One giggle and Tamama was sure his death would be instant.

He calmed in the subsequent silence and grew drowsy. _I hope Sarge is coming to my rescue._ Tamama drifted off with a smile, dreaming of a green knight in shining armor rushing to save his true love from a hulking redstone castle.

* * *

The castle was melting.

"Sarge!" The cute and lovely Prince Tamama, resplendent in his royal wedding gown, reached for his love with both arms. They were unable to escape the distorting scenery, and Tamama began to sink feet-first into a black abyss.

Keroro phased gradually closer to him, velvet cape blowing in the wind with each brief flash. When he finally appeared before Tamama, he reached out. Flailing a puffy-sleeved arm, Tamama grasped his valiant knight's hand.

He gazed into his hero's face, beaming. Keroro had swirly glasses on.

Tamama gasped so hard he squeaked, then stared at the uneven cave ceiling with his eyes wide open. It took him one moment to remember where he was, and another to realize it was day.

Familiar laughter traveled across the small space. "Oh, it was that good, huh?" Kururu was already awake and working at his laptop. "Don't mind me, go on ahead if you need to walk it out."

The entire white portion of Tamama's face went crimson.

"Shut up that's not what it was!" Tamama bolted upright and scooched self-consciously toward the wall, stammering the whole way. "Don't be so gross! Creepy jerk! _Shady specs!_"

Kururu laughed some more behind his hand. "I could keep this up all day, but we actually have something more important to do."

The excess blood drained from Tamama's face enough for him to remember. "Oh yeah!" He sprang to his feet and went to work gathering the supplies he'd salvaged the night before. After deciding to use the lid to carry everything, that left him with one water bottle, a scarcely-touched Type G bar, the bandage roll, and the remaining gauze pads.

Tamama pursed his lips and scanned the lid's meager contents. _I hope Sarge isn't far away. At least water won't be a problem._ The rainstorm marking their arrival gave him hope.

He scooped up the bottle and trotted outside to refill it. Patches of sunlight from the progressing red giant XV-Kas orbited painted the ground here and there, and the remaining puddles were rather puny. Tamama couldn't find enough to filter, until he spotted a muddy reservoir hidden under a dead shrub's above-ground roots.

Returning to the cave, he found Kururu staring at him from over the laptop screen, drumming his fingers on the ground. Tamama held up the filled bottle. "All set."

Kururu closed the laptop and rose to his feet, tucking the computer under one arm. "Well, I've got our course more or less plotted. The path isn't based on their life signals, but it'll lead us to where they were resonating." He supported his free arm against the wall and tested his weight on his bandaged leg. "So if they're headed in our direction, we'll probably meet 'em partway."

"Great!" Tamama chirped. He put the water bottle in the lid and walked to the entrance with it in his arms, stopping to look at Kururu. "Which way do we go first?"

Kururu pushed off the wall and pointed directly out of the cave. "Straight that-a-way."

Tamama bounced into the ruined wilderness. "Then let's go!"

Balancing the lid of supplies atop his head, Tamama followed the path he'd taken while exploring the day before, while Kururu kept pace a short distance behind. It didn't take them long to reach the crash site; the slashed seatbelt reminded Tamama of the danger still lurking about.

Kururu caught up, laptop held open in both hands. "No sign of our cute little pet," he confirmed. "It's long gone."

Tamama let out his breath. "Straight ahead," he reminded himself, stepping past the wreckage.

"Actually, we turn here." Kururu held up an index finger. "We go... that way." He pointed in an eleven o' clock position away from the crash site.

"Roger!" Tamama headed in that direction at a brisk pace.

Morning wore into midday, and the clouds shifted to reveal more of the swollen sun. Aside from the occasional dried-up alien shrub or slat-like protrusion, the landscape had scant variety. Not nearly enough to justify all the constant tweaks and turns in Kururu's navigation, Tamama thought.

After a while, Tamama decided to take his chance for a short break before the next rerouting. He veered towards one of the unusual protrusions several yards away, figuring it was as good a place to rest as any.

"Kururu, I'm gonna take a break," he called out, not looking behind him. Once at the rusted slat, he let the lid slide off his head and into his arms before plopping onto his bottom with a sigh. He opened the water bottle and took a couple mouthfuls. Refreshing as it was, he screwed the lid back on tightly to make sure he conserved what little they had.

It took him a few minutes to realize he still lacked company. "Kururu?" He looked around, finding no one. Balancing the lid on his head again, he jogged back the way he came.

In the time it had taken to reach the resting point from the last directional change, he found Kururu sitting with his laptop open beside him. He'd had enough of walking, apparently.

Tamama let out an exasperated groan. "You coulda _told_ me you'd stopped!"

Kururu tapped a finger on the laptop below the keyboard. "I can still track you and catch up whenever I want."

Tamama frowned. "But we gotta stay together! What if that flea comes back? Or what if maybe there's somethin' else out here?"

"We'd know well in advance if it was on its way," Kururu said. "Better yet, if it wanted a piece of us, we wouldn't be able to do jack out here in the open. So if we see it, we're dead."

The way Kururu laughed afterwards only increased Tamama's dread, and he swallowed hard. "Well... even if it _does_ get here, then isn't it better if we're not dealing with it alone?"

"And what do you plan to do if it decides to show up?" Kururu rested his arm on his bent-up left knee.

Tamama's eyes darted for a solution. "I... uh..." He pointed at Kururu. "You! You've got the acid!"

"Huh?" Then Kururu's monotone reply segued to, "Ah, that."

Tamama resisted the urge to nod for the sake of the supplies. "Yes, that!"

"Yeah!" Kururu pointed back at Tamama with an air of enthusiasm, then let his hand drop. "I don't have it."

A tiny cloud of dust puffed up from the ground as Tamama's lower jaw hit the dirt.

"_What?!_" Tamama retracted his jaw back to its normal position. "You _lost_ it?"

Kururu shrugged. "Can't lose what I never had to begin with."

"Then..." Tamama realized he shouldn't stare at the ground while carrying things on his head, and reached up with both hands to rebalance the lid before anything spilled out. "Then who did?"

Kururu fixed his gaze on the laptop screen. "Giroro was in charge of all the weaponry allocated to this mission."

Tamama stared back in wide-eyed despondency. "Well... let's just keep going. When we meet up with Sarge, we'll have a better chance for sure." He took a bracing breath, lifted one foot, spun around, and set it down in one determined step.

Then he looked over his shoulder. Kururu made no move to get up and follow. Tamama glowered at his superior, then walked up and sat next to him, lowering the supply lid into his arms.

"Does it hurt?"

"Not really, no." Kururu's answer was prompt.

Tamama narrowed his eyes and leaned in closer. "You think that's gonna work on _me?_"

Kururu squared his shoulders, then let them drop and slid his bandaged right leg forward. Tamama placed the lid on the ground beside him and got to work.

"It's okay to tell me, you know." Tamama unwrapped the dressing. "No point in bein' all cagey about it."

Kururu watched Tamama's hand movements. "I'd rather we not blow through our supplies. Commander's resonance was pretty far off, and we're not—" His breath hitched as the bandage caught. "Not likely to reach it by the end of the day."

"Again?" Tamama muttered, and carefully got the bandage and gauze pad free from the clotted wound, fortunately with less difficulty than last time. He grabbed a fresh gauze packet and the water bottle, but Kururu held up a hand to stop him.

"Save it for drinking," Kururu said.

A look of dismay flashed across Tamama's face, and he put the water back in the lid, though not hastily. "I'll clean it as soon as we find more, then." He tore the packet open and put new gauze in the old one's place, holding it still with one hand while he grabbed the bandage roll with the other.

"Yes, there's a glorious sparkling lake just over the horizon."

Tamama froze in mid-bandaging to look up at Kururu, his eyes glittering like sunlight reflecting off an oasis. "_Really?_"

"Why of course... not." Kururu chuckled as hope fled Tamama's expression. "You see any water around here? Do you even think it's gonna rain again anytime soon?" He paused while Tamama gazed at the clearing sky. "This is all we've got. Better not waste it on trivial things."

Tamama fixed him with a squinty glare. "Kururu... you're a butt." He tied off the bandage and sat back, dusting his hands off on his thighs. "That's the best I can do for now. Can you walk on it okay?"

"Yeah, yeah." Kururu closed his laptop under his left arm, then got to his feet. He was hesitant to put much weight on his right foot.

Tamama pressed his lips into a thin line, but didn't say anything. He stood as well, balancing the lid on his head. "Which way now?"

Kururu waved a hand to indicate ahead of them. "We can keep goin' that way for a good while without straying from the coordinates."

Tamama walked in front, trying to go at a steadier pace this time. "Then what was with all the turning before?"

"Distance correction." Kururu followed. "The closer we get to the source, the less recalculating the program has to do on our path."

Tamama hummed at this. "I don't really get it, but okay."

Enough clouds had left to reveal the large sun overhead, its light tinting most of the sky orange. A pair of shadows slowly lengthened as their owners advanced across the wasteland.


	5. On the Horizon

_Thanks to everyone who commented, faved, and followed. Time for more dead world action!_

* * *

"How much longer?" Keroro's moaning reverberated up the canyon walls. He and Dororo departed from the shelter at the break of dawn, and by noon they'd long since passed the point where Dororo had saved him from falling to his death.

Dororo responded without breaking his stride. "You asked ten minutes ago. The answer's still the same."

Keroro shifted the wrapping cloth containing their traveling supplies between his shoulders, grasping the knot in front of his neck with both hands. "Are we there yet?"

"That's... of course not."

Keroro shrugged. "Hey, it's part of the gag." He looked down to make sure he didn't stub his toes on any of the small protruding rocks in their path, and the pause extended from there. "So... how much longer now?"

Dororo closed his eyes momentarily. "You just asked—" He stopped and spun around to find his companion staring back at him with a three-pronged tail sticking out of his mouth. "Keroro!"

"_What?_" Keroro shot back, stiff tail wiggling between his teeth. "It's lunchtime, and I'm hungry! Isn't that what we brought this for?"

"I'd prefer it if you wouldn't sneak food behind my back." Dororo's eyes reduced to stern blue lines. He held out his hand. "Now that you've had something, I'll take over carrying the supplies."

Keroro snapped the tail in half with his teeth and grumbled. "Stingy." He worked the cloth over his head and thrust it into Dororo's hand.

"Stingy is fine with me." Dororo accepted it, shouldering the supplies with light movements. "And I'm not sure you should be eating those uncooked, either."

The lance corporal continued walking. Keroro followed with exaggerated pouty steps. "They were already cooked when we found 'em, anyways! They just taste better warmed up."

"Remember that what we have isn't just for us." Dororo jumped over a shallow pit filled with rainwater. "We can't assume the others have been as fortunate in finding provisions."

"I know, I know..." Keroro hopped the puddle as well, and found the path was wider on the other side. "This is one big canyon."

"Not much farther until we're out of it." At Dororo's reply, Keroro peered past him to see the orange daylight brightening ahead, a light at the end of the tunnel. With a burst of newfound energy, he ran past Dororo to the end of the canyon.

"Firsties!" Keroro jumped out from between the canyon walls and landed with both feet planted firm. The dusty sunlit earth was warm in comparison to the shadowy canyon corridor, and the sudden emergence into daylight caused Keroro to shut his eyes.

He opened them again and stared.

From where he stood, the land sloped into a shallow vale, and rolling hills stretched over the horizon. A large sun, not yet high in the early afternoon, shone on a dusty red landscape filled with shale-grey trees. Dissimilar to those on Earth and Keron alike, they still gave a distinctly plant-like impression, with spiry limbs devoid of leaves forever pointing to the sky.

Dororo stepped up beside his commander. "It's likely that a space flea attacked this planet long before our arrival."

"You mentioned that before." Keroro kept his eyes on the desolation. "You said our flea was attracted to the civilization that _used_ to be here." He shrugged and turned to Dororo. "But there's nothin' left, so what's it gonna do?"

Dororo steadied the carrying cloth on his shoulders. "When deprived of its normal food source, a carnivore will seek alternate means of sustenance." He made his way down the hill, Keroro keeping pace beside him. "A space flea steals the life from a planet and its inhabitants, every living thing."

They descended into the forest. Its lack of underbrush and sound made it all the more eerie. Keroro ran a hand over one of the trees as he passed, finding it cold and smooth, nothing more than a natural statue.

They walked for a while, staying as silent as the forest, until Keroro stopped. Dororo paused in mid-step and turned to him.

"Commander?"

Keroro's head was down, dirt-stained earflaps framing his face. "If we're the only living things here, then that means..."

"All the more reason we need to reunite with Kururu and Tamama," Dororo replied.

Keroro looked up quickly, flaps swinging. "What about Giroro? We'll find him too, right?"

"I..." Dororo tightened his grip around the knot in the carrying cloth. "I cannot be sure. If I knew his location..."

Keroro stomped a foot and swung his arms down in the same motion, his hands tight fists. "That's all you keep telling me!"

"I haven't been able to sense his life force." Dororo kept his tone even. "Perhaps once we reach Kururu and Tamama, I can—"

"_Come on!_" Keroro made frustrated gestures with his fingers held tense. "I've seen more than enough anime to know that someone sayin' they can't sense another guy's energy means he's—"

He cut himself short of the dreaded word, and turned his back on Dororo. Keroro broke the silence in a quieter voice. "I just wish I knew what happened when we..."

"I do." Dororo's response was almost a whisper. Keroro whirled to find his friend's head bowed, blue eyes scanning the ground. "The last time I saw Giroro was when the space flea tore our ship apart."

"That's the last time _any_ of us saw him."

Dororo shook his head. "It was during freefall, after we entered the atmosphere. When we were thrown from the ship, only Giroro and I were able to retain our senses." He looked into the forest over Keroro's shoulder as the sergeant's eyes became wider with each word. "It tried to kill us before we landed, but Giroro stalled it." He met Keroro's gaze. "And he ensured your safe landing."

"So that's what happened..." Keroro mentally traced along hairline cracks in the soil as this sank in, then faced Dororo again. "But then he landed okay, right? You saw that too, right?"

"I don't know." Dororo broke away from Keroro's gaze. "I had to concentrate on dispersing the force of my own landing as I fell into the canyon. After Giroro saved you, I lost sight of him."

Keroro relaxed his hands from their taut posture and dropped them to his sides. "I see... but he must've survived. Wouldn't be the first time he's tried to go out like a badass action hero. He's waitin' for us."

Keroro kept his eyes locked with Dororo's, until the latter nodded in assent. The lance corporal gestured for them to continue, and Keroro accompanied him further into the woods. Their lengthening shadows joined the ones cast by the spiked canopy reaching for the reddened sun.

* * *

The hills wore on with hundreds of trees and almost no real shade. Not long after cresting the second hill, Dororo felt a tug on the supply-filled cloth he carried, and stopped.

"Dororooo," Keroro moaned from behind. "I'm gettin' thirsty. Could ya hand me the water?"

Dororo looked over his shoulder. "Can you try holding out a little longer? That way we can cover more ground before—"

"But I'm thirsty _now!_" Keroro protested at a higher octave, tightening his one-handed hold. "It's hot out here, or didn't you notice?"

Dororo turned to Keroro, who released the cloth, and prepared to deal with another one of his commander's childish fits. But Keroro's face had a few more lines in it than usual. What little water they had was precious, but as Keronians, they were stretching their limits.

Dororo lowered the carrying cloth to the ground and knelt to undo the knot. The corners fell open, one cylindrical canteen rolling to bump against his knee while Keroro seated himself and grabbed the other. He twisted the metal cap off with gusto and drank in large gulps.

"Keroro!"

The sergeant hastily detached his lips from the canteen and held it out of Dororo's reach. "I _know,_ jeez! It just feels like forever since I last had a drink." He wiped his chin with the back of one grimy hand, cool water mingling with sweat. "What's with this sun, anyway? Isn't it supposed to be a dying star?"

"Indeed." Dororo dug the zigzag heating unit out of the ration pile. "It's still at an early stage, and won't consume the planet for another several billion years." He brushed away some of the dust to make a bare patch, and set the heating unit there.

Keroro made a face. "Sheesh." As Dororo reached for the rations, Keroro prodded his hand with the end of the canteen. "Here, you should have some too." Dororo blinked at him, and Keroro smiled. "Can't have ya tryin' to tough your way out anymore than you need to."

Dororo furrowed his brow. "Er, actually, that one's for—"

"That's an order!" Keroro pushed the canteen into Dororo's palm.

No arguing with that. Dororo sat with his legs tucked under him and accepted the canteen with both hands. "My thanks to you."

Dororo took a mouthful before replacing the cap, but that was good enough for Keroro. Afterwards, Dororo cooked a couple dried rodents for each of them before packing up and moving on.

It didn't take long for Dororo to start feeling the sun's effects, and the short grey veil attached to his cap stuck to the back of his head. He had the assassin-trained resilience to withstand heat and dehydration to the point where most Keronians would be beyond response. However, the key was to remain still and conserve energy through deep meditation. Every movement in the harsh sunlight was a ticking clock hand, and he could almost hear it going faster for the one behind him.

Keroro silently debated the merits of carrying the supplies. They'd block some of the sun, but would provide extra weight. He put one foot in front of the other, his soles cooking a little more at each step. He held on to the belief that they weren't wandering aimlessly, though he had no idea where they were going. Dororo's unfaltering trust in their unseen path supported his own.

Time passed, and the two crossed hill after hill. The forest thinned out, with a rocky elevation visible in the distance. The sun had moved around the horizon to rest just above the cliffs, and its rays shone directly on their right sides. Keroro closed one eye to the side-glare and wiped sweat off his chin, a habitual movement over the past several hours.

He wasn't sweating anymore. Keroro's eyes widened at the realization, and with effort, he sped up to Dororo. "Hey, a little water? I'm dryin' up here." When Dororo stopped, Keroro pressed his hands together in a pleading motion. "Just a teensy little bit!"

Dororo didn't answer him right away, or look back. Keroro's heart fell. "C'mon, are you still mad about earlier? It's not gonna be that much, I—"

"It's here!" As Dororo said this, something large and dark emerged from behind the distant cliffs.

"Gero? What is it?" Keroro squinted against the setting sun, but he couldn't make sense of the hulking figure against the glaring background. He shut his eyes and rubbed them, facing Dororo instead. "What's goin' on?"

"It's the flea, and it knows where we are." Dororo leapt into the trees and hopped from limb to limb. "Quickly, this way!"

Keroro squawked and almost tripped over his feet, scrambling to run after Dororo along the ground. "It _does?_ But it's all the way over there!"

He didn't get a reply from Dororo's blurred figure above. Dororo didn't stay far ahead, however, and checked his speed enough to stay in sight ten or eleven trees in front of Keroro.

As the sergeant's blind panic made way for morbid curiosity, he glanced at the cliffs. He was just in time to watch the flea soar over them, block out the sun, and clear several tree-spiked hilltops in a single jump. Keroro screamed and closed the distance between Dororo and himself from eleven trees to three.

"Can't you use your ninja moves or Assassin Magic or something?!" Keroro yelled. The space flea landed twenty feet away, its weight and proximity shuddering the earth under Keroro's feet. He stumbled and squealed, windmilling his arms to keep from falling over.

Escape on foot was not possible without leaving his commander behind, Dororo realized, so he alighted atop another tree and stood facing the oncoming threat. He put his hands together and moved them fluidly in several swift symbols. Energy welled up from deep within, and he channeled it from his center up through his arms.

The flea landed from another massive jump and turned towards Dororo. A wispy blue aura enveloped the ninja, and the flea's front antennae twitched, its back legs tensing in response.

The space flea jumped at him bladed forelegs first, and Dororo held his arms straight out.

"_Dororo Ninja Art!_ Freezing Gale of the Polar Extremes!"

A beam of subzero air blasted from his open palms and collided with the flea. A thick layer of ice spread from the point of contact to coat its entire body, and the flea's momentum gave out two feet from Dororo's extended arms.

Keroro had stopped to watch with eyes painfully wide. He dared not move as the flea plummeted in a block of ice, shattering several petrified trees.

Dororo exhaled and relaxed his arms. "That won't hold it for long." He gripped the carrying cloth around his shoulders and called to Keroro, "This way," before jumping through the trees.

Keroro sprinted after him like the flea would burst from the ice any second. His fear strained at him to look back, but like a pursuing nightmare, he felt the smallest peek would kill him.

He didn't know long he fled, but Keroro knew if he kept going, his lungs would collapse, explode, or both. His movements hardly resembled running at that point, and his legs ached with each swaying step. Finding a tree to rest against was a challenge when they all bent themselves out of his reach.

Finally, he found a sturdy tree. It was soft and blue.

"Here." Dororo pushed the half-empty canteen into Keroro's outstretched hands. The sergeant accepted it and fell back against the cool shady side of an actual tree. He managed a few swallows before Dororo took it back, but Keroro was too breathless to protest.

He was still thirsty, but had cooled off and caught his breath somewhat. Dororo sat beside him, and Keroro regarded at his companion through half-lidded eyes.

"Looks like you saved my life again." Keroro managed a weary smile.

Dororo closed his eyes and relaxed his shoulders, letting the tree trunk take some of the weight of the supplies. "We can't keep running forever."

Keroro crossed his legs and lifted his gaze to the hills ahead. The sun sank low between them, its remaining rays bathing everything in crimson. Shadows from the two Keronians and the stone-silent forest extended to their longest points.

After resting a while, Keroro slapped his hands on both knees. "All right! We've got a long way to go, so let's get going, shall we?"

Dororo watched his commander spring up and stretch the stiffness out of each limb, as if he hadn't nearly collapsed while fleeing for his life half an hour ago. Keroro's energy encouraged him, though, and Dororo got to his feet and continued leading the way. The unseen signals ahead weren't quite as far as they were before.

"Hey Dororo, you've been carryin' the supplies for like forever," Keroro called from behind. "Lemme take over for a bit."

"Not a chance."

"_Stingy!_"

"Stingy is fine with me."


	6. Descent

_Your reviews and expectations fill me with sinful glee._

* * *

Tamama stumbled when his next step was several inches lower than the last. He planted his feet to regain his balance, clapping both hands to the lid on his head when it tried to slide off.

He straightened and peered around from where he stood at the edge of a large, shallow basin. It was hundreds of feet across, but didn't get much lower toward the center, and was as sun-baked as the rest of the wasteland. The ground was dry to the point of cracking into concave-edged sections, accented by the sunset light.

The change in scenery made him scowl.

"You did that on purpose! You knew there really _was_ a lake here, _didn't you!_" He fumed as his voice carried into the distance, then drooped with a hoarse sigh. "So thirsty..."

He'd been holding off from drinking at every temptation, limiting himself to small sips to have enough for himself and Kururu. The sergeant major was equally conservative, however, and Tamama could count the times he'd been tapped on the shoulder that day on one hand.

He scuffed a foot on the ground, and turned to retrace his path. Out of earshot, Kururu waited in the shade of a rocky outcropping not far from the lakebed, claiming it'd give him a good chance to improve the tracking program. Tamama had volunteered to scout ahead; it saved him the effort of pointing out how much Kururu was favoring his right leg.

The telltale typing of Kururu at work greeted Tamama as he got closer to the outcropping. He rounded the corner into the shade and put the lid aside before seating himself on the cool ground. "Whatcha doin' now?"

Kururu had the map open and zoomed out several times. "Got the seismic detector working again. Doesn't sense very far yet... and it already picked somethin' up."

Tamama hunched his shoulders when Kururu's tone turned sour, and scooted in for a closer look. A new window was open below the map, black with a green horizontal line in the middle.

"How's it look out there?" Kururu kept his eyes on the screen. "Any cover ahead?"

Tamama shook his head. "Nope, it's flat and open as far as I can see. 'Cept for that dip in the ground." He pointed at the map.

Kururu clicked his tongue. "Damn. Not much choice, then. Let's head for the basin before it—"

The line spiked, and Tamama squeaked. He swore he felt the ground move beneath him.

Kururu was already pulling himself up by the rough outcropping, his laptop closed under one arm. "Get movin', it's comin' from our left."

His diction was too swift for safety. Tamama snatched up the lid in one hand and darted out from behind the rock, but jerked to a stop to look back at Kururu. "But what about—"

Kururu flicked a hand at him. "Just go, I'll be right behind you."

Tamama faced forward again. He set his jaw and squeezed his eyes shut, trying to push himself through a wall. All he had to do was run. The basin wasn't far, and he had a fresh burst of adrenaline on his side.

As the ground shook a little harder, Tamama whirled around, dropped the supplies, and tied the water bottle to his side using the gauze roll.

"What in Keron's militaristic regime are you doing?" Kururu kept a hand to the rock as the flea landed again.

Tamama crammed the rest of the roll and the remaining gauze pad under his hat. "I'm takin' you with me."

"No you're n—"

Kururu had to cling tighter to his laptop as Tamama hefted him up piggyback-style. The sergeant major hastily repositioned his laptop between himself and Tamama as the younger Keronian raced for the lakebed. Tamama took another quake in stride, while Kururu scrambled for purchase with his arms on the top and sides of Tamama's head.

His voice bounced with Tamama's gait. "I don't believe this."

Tamama grinned; that was worth a few points. He secured his arms under Kururu and kicked up a billowing trail of dust. Soon the dried-up lakebed came into view, but so did something else.

The space flea advanced over the wastes, attracting Tamama's attention with its landing impact. As it pushed off for another leap, carapace gleaming, a long high-pitched noise wormed its way out of Tamama's throat. He pumped his legs faster, Kururu gripping harder in response, but the flea destroyed Tamama's efforts with fifty yard jumps.

Before he knew it, Tamama was well beyond the edge of the lakebed. He slowed to keep from stumbling on the upturned cracks at his feet, then quit moving altogether. The space flea drew closer every few seconds.

"Hey, I didn't say you could stop." Kururu's voice was sharp in Tamama's ears.

Tamama made little mincing steps on the spot, looking one way, then another. His arms trembled, and not from Kururu's weight. "Wh-where'm I s'posed to go?" His voice came out small. The ground lurched under his feet, and Tamama hunkered down.

Kururu prodded the back of Tamama's head hard enough to make him jump. "Further towards the middle."

Tamama almost overbalanced in his haste, gaining a few yards before the next jolt set them on their rears. The space flea perched on the edge of the basin in the near distance. He couldn't pull his eyes away from giant jumping death.

Kururu dug his finger in. "Keep goin' unless you like dying!"

Tamama shook his head to dislodge the digit as he gathered his legs beneath himself and sprang forward. Cracked soil flew under his feet, and the space flea's shadow spread across the ground to meet them.

"Stop!"

Tamama scrambled to end his momentum. "What? _Why?_"

With the space flea blocking out the sun, Kururu leaned forward to rest his chin on his crossed arms over Tamama's head, watching the incoming galactic parasite like a shooting star. "Perfect."

The space flea landed with its long piercing mouthparts inches from impaling Tamama's face, and its huge body punched straight through the ground.

Tamama had the unintentional foresight to take a deep breath at that very moment, giving him plenty of time to scream. Angular soil fragments showered down with them, and Tamama lost his grip on Kururu when he brought up his arms to shield himself. The flea fell far ahead of them into a black abyss, wind whistling through its razor-sharp guard hairs. A suspiciously jovial _kuuu-kukuku_ from somewhere off to Tamama's left told him the sergeant major hadn't drifted far.

Something wooshed past Tamama's head, and he looked up to see he'd fallen past a metal rail. He looked below his feet to see an identical rail rushing towards him, attached to a walkway spanning the horizontal length of the chasm wall.

Tamama spun in midair and found Kururu falling several feet away. He flailed towards him with all four limbs, and strained an arm out.

"Kururu!" Tamama's shout echoed up the hole. "Grab on!"

Kururu held his laptop in one arm as he stretched the other toward Tamama with his fingers spread. The second guard rail flew past, and Tamama latched onto Kururu's wrist.

Tamama took another deep breath and looked down.

"_Tamama Impact!_"

A bright yellow breath-beam erupted from his mouth. They rose to the guard rail, until the beam started to thin. Tamama squeezed his eyes shut and shuddered with effort, but their speed rapidly decreased.

_Just a little more..._ Tamama's equilibrium shifted as the beam petered out.

Kururu clutched Tamama's wrist and jerked his arm. "Come on!"

Tamama's grip went slack. "I can't..."

Kururu used his good leg to deliver a swift kick to Tamama's tail, and the private roared out a beam twice as strong as the last. Tamama collided with the railing torso-first and flipped onto the walkway, while Kururu catapulted over him and bounced to an eventual stop by the wall.

He hadn't heard the flea make a satisfying _crunch_ far below, Kururu realized. Maybe he'd been lying on the floor longer than he thought.

Kururu pushed himself up with one hand, and adjusted his crooked glasses with the other. Tamama was twitching on his side nearby, uttering incoherent creaks now and then, but the laptop was nowhere in sight.

According to the ever-useful locater built into Kururu's headphones, it had slid fifty feet away, well out of sight. Aside from the orange-red sunlight filtered through the dirt spilling into the hole hundreds of feet above, the walkway was unlit.

He hauled himself to his feet with a sigh and limped into the gloom. His supporting hand slid across flat metal, but he felt hard patches of earth every so often. It gave the impression of a work forever in progress.

"Just walk it off, right Giroro?" The locater beeped faster. "You better be twice as mangled as the rest of us."

His left foot brushed against something. The locater beeped twice more, then silenced. He stooped with his palm face-down, finding the scuffed cover of his laptop, and picked it up in both hands. He fell back to sit against the wall and felt around the laptop, finding no additional damage, then set it on the floor and flipped it open. Its screen instantly provided light.

The rusted metal wall was coarse yet cool on his back and shoulders. As the terrain map reloaded, an error popped up in the middle of the window; it was useless inside the chasm.

He craned his head back, not really looking through the hole in the ceiling, and closed his eyes. If the old civilization had built underground to the point of thinning the soil above, there had to be elevators. He didn't relish the prospect of climbing ladders down a bottomless pit in total darkness.

But he'd find a map and avoid that nonsense, he told himself. Eventually.

* * *

The orange sunset shining into the pit faded to pale starlight, and Kururu hadn't returned. Tamama tried to roll onto his uninjured side, causing a motivation-sucking wave of agony in his ribs.

He groaned; his throat was paper. He lurched sideways into a sitting position and fumbled with the gauze around his torso until the water came loose. The loose bandaging material laid across his lap and tail as he gripped the plastic bottle in both hands and stared.

He lasted two seconds before spinning the cap off so hard it bounced across the floor. Ready to empty it all in one go, the thought of Kururu's tissue paper corpse forever rustling in his ears gave him enough willpower to pull away with half the water remaining.

Next he snatched the energy bar out from under his hat. Its burnt-socks smell came through the wrapper, and his stomach growled. Tamama let his hands peel it off and crammed the bar into his mouth, gnawing on it with his back teeth for a full minute. A piece broke off, and he spent another minute trying to chew it before swallowing it whole. He was thankful he didn't have quite enough saliva to taste it.

Tamama discovered half a ration and a half-empty water bottle sitting on the floor in front of him. He cast about for the cap, closed up the water again, and put the remaining food back in its wrapper. His mind cleared as he rolled the loose gauze back around the roll.

Kururu had left for some reason, and Tamama figured he'd appreciate some food and water as well. He slid the Type G and the gauze back under his hat, took the water bottle in one hand, and stood.

The private moved in increments at first, afraid to incite that shooting pain from earlier, but it didn't advance past a dull ache. Nothing shifted around inside his chest, which meant nothing was broken.

_Can't get anywhere fast like this._ Tamama padded one foot in front of the other. _But neither can Kururu._

He went slow, but it still didn't take long for darkness to swallow him up. Then his eyelids twitched at a soft light ahead, and he focused on it as he continued walking.

It wasn't until he was a few feet away that he realized he'd followed the sleep mode screen of Kururu's laptop. Its owner sat against the wall, feet splayed and one hand resting on his stomach, rising and falling with steady breaths. Tamama sat next to the laptop by degrees and put the water bottle aside. The screen's pale glow couldn't illuminate more than a silhouette from Kururu's torso emblem upward.

Tamama scooted a little closer to Kururu and poked his shoulder. "Kururu." His voice had little force behind it. "C'mon, wake up." He nudged harder. Kururu's arm came up in a half-conscious attempt to fend him off, and Tamama sat back.

Kururu grumbled, reaching up to rub underneath his glasses. He noticed Tamama after several seconds, and lowered his head into one hand.

Tamama frowned. "What's wrong?"

The sergeant major didn't change his pose. "I was having the most wonderful dream. Where you _died._"

His signature laughter followed. Tamama grit his teeth in an effort not tense any muscle that might bother his ribs. His fingers contorted themselves into strangling motions.

Kururu sat up straighter and leaned in, his grin visible. "This oughta be good."

Tamama let his hands clench until the knuckles stood out. "_You!_" he shouted. "You dirty yellow sonuva—"

His left side seized up and sent him sideways.

Kururu watched the private whimper and twitch on the floor. "What'd you do to yourself this time?"

Tamama shook his head into his drawn-up knees. Kururu gripped the bottom edges of his laptop, then stopped; the screen wasn't bright enough to examine Tamama with. He shifted against the wall and positioned his hands over the keys to seek out another light source.

But when he pressed against the metal this time, it gave. Even Tamama quieted at the staccato scrape.

Kururu turned to search the metal with his hands. He found a thin gap off to one side, which continued further up than he could reach, and ended where it touched the walkway. He'd been sleeping against a door.

He used the wall to stand, and groped around until he found an oval indentation level with his forehead and twice the size of his hand. He curled his fingers into it and pulled, causing the rusted metal to shriek as it slid partway into the wall. The resulting gap was wide enough to look in with one eye, but it was pitch-black on the other side.

Then a bright light glinted off the single swirly lens peeking into the room. Kururu ducked away and blinked to rid himself of the circular spot in his vision, then put his other hand into the indentation and shoved until the opening was wide enough to walk through.

It wasn't much larger than one of the Hinatas' bedrooms. An orb hung without any apparent means of suspension at the center-top of the wall opposite the door, bathing everything in a medium bluish-white glow. Boxy contraptions, many with screens and most lacking external controls, were crammed into every available space by the walls, leaving a thin path between.

He limped towards what looked like a jet-black arcade cabinet with a single action button, but instead of pushing it, he ran his hands over the front. His fingers discovered telltale edges, and he pressed the compartment door to spring it free. It swung open to reveal several ports with tiny markings above them in a deprecated form of universal block lettering. Retro tech was one of Kururu's many obsessions, and he recognized the writing.

He slammed it shut and hissed a curse through his teeth. An astrological fortune-telling machine was useless to him.

When Kururu rose to his feet, his vision got hazy. He leaned his forearm on the machine, watching the floor go in and out of focus. The single water bottle came to mind: not enough for two, and not for much longer.

His sight decided to stop tunneling, and he pushed away from the fortune-teller. If the chasm was a vault to its extinct owners, there had to be food and water stored somewhere.

The next device was a solid metallic square standing at eye level, with controls on top like a Pekoponian washing machine. In place of load size and cycle options were twisted symbols. Ports pockmarked the controls, and Kururu opened both sides of his headphones to connect wires to the leftmost two.

A faint pop and crackle sounded as each wire plugged in, followed by a low electric hum. It still worked. He disconnected the wires and let them retract into their headphone compartments, then got ready to stand.

The entire room rocked through no fault of his own, and he fell forward and hit the floor hard with his hands. As soon as it stopped, another one followed, farther away and less severe. A third shake, then nothing but the sound of rocks clattering down the metal sides of the chasm.

Kururu worked out what it was by the time Tamama staggered through the doorway with his eyes bulging.

"The flea... it just..." Tamama pointed out the door with the half-empty water bottle in one hand.

Kururu pushed himself back to sit against the cube. "Yeah, I know." He crossed his arms and pointed at the laptop in Tamama's other hand. "Y'gonna gimme that or what?"

Tamama swallowed and stepped into the room, moving his left side stiffly. He blinked in the light while looking back and forth to take everything in. "What kinda place is this?"

"Looks like a storage room. Or a junk depository." Kururu unfolded his arms to accept the laptop.

Tamama held out the water bottle as well. "Here. The rest is yours."

Kururu's eyes were more riveted to the clear liquid in the dirt-smeared plastic than he would ever dare to admit.

"Later." He turned away from Tamama and set the laptop on the floor before connecting wires between his headphones, his computer, and the machine.

Tamama watched Kururu lean on his left leg as he stood to reach across the cube's surface to its ports. "C'mon, you hardly drank anything today. And you haven't even eaten."

Kururu finished making connections, sat on the floor with a huff, and ran a program on the laptop to analyze the cube's contents. Then a familiar crinkling cut through the information his headphones received from two sources. He looked up to see Tamama pulling the half-eaten Type G bar out from under his hat.

Kururu's spine blocked his gut's panicked egress. _Why didn't that damn thing fall down the hole?_

Tamama offered it to him. "I had some already, so I figured—"

"I don't want it." Kururu looked down at the laptop and keyed in commands.

Tamama frowned. "I know it tastes bad, but it's better than nothing."

"What part of 'I don't want it' don't you get?" Kururu continued the analysis. The machine contained various information about the chasm: blueprints, supply lists, orders for giant laser-drills, and a detailed layout of the structure. The walkways depicted were more elaborate than what he'd seen.

He scanned the layout floor by floor, and untensed his shoulders when he saw a food storage area. Waiting for Keroro and Dororo to find them in the chasm meant he didn't have to walk under that damnable sun.

Kururu turned to ask Tamama with calculated indifference for the water, only to find his face an inch away. He backed up and bumped into the cube. "The hell do you want?"

Tamama's fatigue dragged at his usually bright-eyed expression, as did the dark bruises on his left side. Neither killed his determined little grin. He held up the gauze roll and unraveled a few inches.

Kururu was cornered. "You little bastard."

"We can't just leave it," Tamama said. "Besides, it's lookin' kinda..." He gestured at the bandage covered in dirt around Kururu's right leg.

Kururu drew his leg in. "Oh no ya don't." That didn't discourage Tamama in the least, and he reached for it with both hands. Kururu grabbed his wrists and shoved him away. "Fine! If I do it myself, will you leave me alone already?"

Tamama winced, then scooted back a couple feet. Kururu unwound the bandage to expose the gauze pad on the back of his leg, and paused. He knew the reddened skin peeking out from under the dressing wasn't dust. Nudging his fingertips under the edges, he found it hot to the touch.

_Oh, hell_.

He started to peel the gauze away, but instant searing pain stopped him. It was glued in place by something he didn't want to think about.

"What's the matter? Lemme see." Tamama pulled himself closer, but Kururu batted him away with one hand. The private backed off with a grumble.

Kururu held his hand out, palm up. "Just gimme that, would ya?"

Tamama picked up the gauze roll. "Shouldn't you take that off first?"

"Not such a good idea." Kururu kept his eyes down.

"Uh... okay." Tamama placed the roll into Kururu's hand, and he bandaged himself in silence.


	7. Unlucky Bastards

_Thanks for all the support. Now it's my turn..._

* * *

The last orange streaks vanished below the wasteland as Keroro and Dororo descended the final hill, leaving the stone forest behind. Flat ground came as a relief to both, their legs worn from uphill travel and escape.

Keroro stumbled closer to Dororo and tugged the back of the carrying cloth. "Can we stop now? It's gettin' dark, and my feet are _dead._"

Dororo kept walking, and Keroro's arm fell loosely away. "There's almost no cover ahead, so we shouldn't..."

He stopped and peered hard at something in the middle distance. Keroro stepped up beside him and followed his gaze to a piece of bent metal sticking out of the ground at a slight angle.

Keroro squinted at it. "Whaddya suppose that is?"

"A remnant." Dororo started walking again. "Once part of a great city, perhaps."

Keroro kept his eyes on the exposed beam as they approached. He turned back time in his mind's eye, straightened the metal, hid it in solid walls, secured it with a foundation and roof. Fuyuki sat reading Paranormal Monthly in the living room.

"Commander?"

Keroro blinked. The rusted beam was right in front of him, and Dororo had taken out the emergency blanket. Keroro took the half offered to him, helping to expand it before they tossed it over the beam to create a makeshift tent.

Keroro plopped down under it with a sigh and rubbed his feet. "Are we gettin' close to 'em yet?"

"Yes, not much further now." Dororo put the carrying cloth down. He untied it, placing the heating element to one side, and the partly empty canteen in front of his companion.

Keroro grabbed it in both hands with one ready on the cap, then eyed the other canteen resting next to their dwindling food pile.

"Aren't you gonna have some too?" Keroro motioned to it.

Dororo shook his head. "That one's for Kururu and Tamama."

"You mean we're _sharing_ this one?" Keroro lifted his canteen and gave it a shake.

"That's for you." Dororo slid one of the dried rodents onto the heating element.

The canteen met the ground with a gritty thud. "Lance Corporal Dororo, are you trying to kill yourself?!"

Dororo looked up. "Don't worry. I can last a while longer on my energy reserves without having to drink."

"Y'mean the reserves you're using up with—" Keroro's train of thought jumped the tracks. "That other one's for Giroro too, right?"

Dororo fixed his gaze on the heating unit again. He didn't make any move to start it.

"We'll have enough food for him too, right?" Keroro got on his hands and knees to look Dororo in the eye.

Dororo closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "It would be impractical to spread our rations any thinner."

Keroro slapped the dirt. "You're _abandoning_ him? Is that what you're saying?" He sat up and grabbed Dororo's shoulders, leaning over the heating element. "You just said you're not sure where he is. That doesn't hafta mean he's dead!"

"I am _trying,_" Dororo said with tense fingers held just short of Keroro's arms, "not to lose anyone else."

Keroro slipped away from Dororo as the ground shook. Dororo flung a blanket flap aside, and Keroro followed suit in time to see the space flea rocket out of the ground a hundred feet away. The clear twilight revealed it soaring over a wide depression with a gaping hole in the middle.

"Run for that basin." Dororo took the dried meat off the heating unit and tied everything back into the carrying cloth with blurry movements.

"Run towards _that?_" Keroro ceased yanking at the stubborn emergency blanket to point at the descending flea.

Dororo grabbed the blanket, which shrunk into a tiny square at his touch, and stowed it behind his sword. "We'll go underground. Tamama and Kururu are somewhere in that hole."

Keroro's eyes widened, but there was no time for words as Dororo took off, and he raced after him. The hole came into clearer view as they neared the basin.

The flea landed on the edge of the depression not ten feet away, forcing both Keronians briefly into the air. Keroro shrieked and latched onto the carrying cloth behind Dororo. The flea stabbed its mouthparts toward them, and Dororo whipped his arm forward to deflect it with his sword. His weapon went flying out of his hand as the flea struck.

Keroro's breath shuddered to a stop as he watched one of the flea's piercing tubes slide through Dororo's neck. Everything inside him screamed.

Then the flea lifted its head, and Keroro felt air under his feet. His torso was pincered between two of the long mouthparts. As he rose, he saw one of them was stuck through the carrying cloth right next to Dororo's neck, leaving his friend untouched.

Dororo planted his feet and wrenched back against the flea, while Keroro kept hold of the cloth in both fists. The knot pressed against Dororo's throat, and he extracted his head from the carrying cloth and pulled with both arms.

"Dororo!" Keroro's tears spattered onto the cloth, hanging upside-down with his arms stretched taut. "_Help me!_"

Dororo's left arm trembled as he reached the other one upward. Keroro strained a hand for him, and the cloth ripped in two.

The flea bowled over backwards onto the slope leading into the basin, flinging Keroro and the supplies into a high arc. One of the flea's long hind legs caught Dororo in the stomach as it fell, and sent him flying over the basin.

Dororo bounced off the cracked ground and rolled for several feet before stopping on his back. Keroro's fading screams rang in his ears. He couldn't hear his own heartbeat, and couldn't feel the ground until the force of his landing stopped vibrating through his skeleton.

He sat up at a low rumble, and felt more than saw the flea thrashing to right itself. His left arm ached down to the fingertips. The ripped ends of the carrying cloth were twisted around his hand, with the heating unit tangled in them.

Starlight glinted off Dororo's blade, stuck at the edge of the hole; he'd landed just short of it. He shook away the tingling in the back of his head and retrieved his sword, sheathing it before securing the heating unit to his back with the cloth's remains.

He dropped partway into the hole, gripping the edge and peering over it. The flea was on its feet, balancing on the slope, but going no further. Dororo had a perfect view of a cross-section of thin soil from the hole, and realized why the flea couldn't risk pursuing him.

Two life signals pulsed below. He released the edge and vanished into the abyss.

* * *

According to the layout, a supply room lay three floors below. Kururu couldn't check if construction had completed that far, so he and Tamama went to find out for themselves. No ladders led down there, nor any elevators.

A teleporter two rooms ahead did, however, and Kururu had the long-unused equipment primed within minutes. He input a time delay before stepping onto a square mat next to Tamama, and the lining around the edges glittered to life. Countless tiny lights stretched up and overtook their vision, then returned to darkness.

As if detecting their presence, several orbs placed midway up the wall in front of them lit themselves one by one, revealing a square room larger than the electronics storage. Clear cylindrical containers lined three of the walls, some containing dark pink objects.

A mummified cat-like alien slumped over an open one directly ahead, staring with empty sockets above a gaping mouth devoid of teeth. Tamama squealed and dropped the water bottle he was holding to cover his eyes with both hands.

"Looks like we found the unlucky bastard who got to die last," Kururu said.

Tamama's hands trembled as he forced them lower, but he looked off to the side, avoiding even a corner-glimpse. Kururu stepped unsteadily off the telepad and headed for a corpseless container, Tamama following close behind.

"W-we can't still use this stuff, can we?" Tamama watched Kururu set the laptop on the floor and reach up with some effort to pop the lid off the cylinder. It was two-thirds full of some kind of small shriveled animal that didn't look like food. Kururu took one of them and held it near the laptop by the end of its stiff three-pronged tail.

A small window appeared on the screen and vanished. "Says it's edible." He tossed it over his shoulder and it bounced back into the cylinder. "Let's see if there's any water in here."

Tamama took a bracing breath and walked down the other side of the wall. At first he found more food containers in varying states of emptiness, then something smaller caught his eye. It sat in one corner, its clean metallic exterior bringing Pekoponian thermoses to mind. He picked it up to tilt experimentally from side to side, and heard liquid splash against the inside of the metal cap.

He steadied the canteen against the floor with impatient movements and unscrewed the cap. Clear water inside reflected the orb above him, and he beamed.

"Kururu, I found some!" His quiet voice wasn't going to reach Kururu from across the room, so he gripped the canteen in both hands and walked to the other side as briskly as he dared. "I found some water! Look!"

Tamama reached the wall's opposite corner, where the sergeant major had found a canteen much like his. Kururu strained to unscrew the cap and swore more colorfully with each effort.

"Fuckin' _open,_ ya lousy piece of—"

Tamama set his canteen on the floor, the sound causing Kururu to look up; he hadn't noticed his approach. The private removed the lid on his canteen and pushed it carefully towards him.

"I found some, too," Tamama said.

Kururu glanced at the proffered canteen, then down at his. He rubbed the heel of his hand against his forehead, then turned the cap counter-clockwise, opening it with no trouble.

Tamama noticed Kururu's yellow-ochre pallor as he chugged the canteen's contents. "You don't look so good. Maybe you should eat something."

Kururu finished drinking with a sigh and wiped his forearm across his chin. "_You_ can eat the dead rats. And I'm fine."

Tamama pulled his own canteen back. "Y'don't _look_ fine." He attached the opening to his lips, supporting it more with his right arm than his left, and drank as if the cool water couldn't get into him fast enough. He broke away a few seconds later, choking for air and subsequently doubled over from the resulting agony.

Kururu's laugh made a tinny echo in the rim of his canteen. "Hey now, don't drown yourself." He put it down and worked his way to his feet using the wall beside him. "For a Keronian, that'd be..."

Still wincing from the muscle spasms in his chest, Tamama managed to look up when Kururu trailed off during a punchline. The sergeant major was pressing his side to the wall in an effort to stay upright, his fingers unable to dig into the metal.

"Kururu?" Gritting his teeth, Tamama forced himself off the floor.

Kururu didn't answer. Though only a few feet away, Tamama's voice was drowned out by the rushing in his ears, taking him miles away. The blackness crowding the corners of his vision closed in until he couldn't feel the wall anymore.

It wasn't until the wall lights realigned to become one of each instead of two that Kururu remembered where he was. He didn't know how long he'd been lying on the floor, however.

"You okay?" Tamama's face entered his vision from the right, blocking some of the illumination above.

"What kinda dumbass question is that," Kururu deadpanned. "I'm awesome. I'm _fantastic._" He rolled onto his side and pushed himself up with his arms, and his vision went fuzzy again. He persisted, groping for the wall with one hand.

Tamama raised a hand halfway, then lowered it. "Don't tell me there's something in the water."

"No, nothing's in it." Kururu managed to get his back against the wall. He resisted the instinct to withdraw from the cold metal. "The water's perfectly safe."

Some of the tension left Tamama's frame, and he looked away from Kururu to scan the room. "I don't think we should stay here. Let's take this stuff and..." He trailed off, staring at something across the room, then stood and walked away.

Kururu followed Tamama with his eyes. The private blended into the shadows where the yellowish orb light couldn't reach, until a softer hue lit up an alcove. Tamama said something in a happy tone, though his voice was too quiet to carry well. Kururu thought he mentioned beds, fading some of the mystery around the dead alien's presence.

Tamama returned to Kururu and pointed behind himself. "I found some beds. They don't look used or anything."

"Not even by the stiff?" Kururu started to pull himself up by the wall, but Tamama met him halfway, sliding his right arm under Kururu's left. He tried to back out of the unwanted assistance, but it was already too late.

Tamama's eyes widened. "Jeez, you're all hot!"

"Flattery will get you nowhere."

Tamama scowled. "That's not funny! Why didn't you tell... oh, never mind." He moved his arm until it was behind Kururu's back. The two leaned into each other and hobbled across the floor to the alcove.

It had just enough room for two sets of bunk beds tucked lengthwise into either side, with a thin space between. The beds themselves were roomy, designed for bodies somewhat larger than Keronians. Kururu let Tamama take him as far as sidling between the bunks, then got out of the private's hold. He pulled himself onto one of the beds and collapsed face-down on the soft white material.

"Be right back with the water," Tamama said before leaving the alcove. Kururu shifted onto his left side and edged closer to the center of the bed. He groped blindly above him with one arm, and couldn't locate any blankets or pillows, though the bedding itself was comfortable enough. He relaxed his arm by his head as he sank into the middle.

Tamama returned with both canteens under his right arm, and the half-empty water bottle in his left hand. He set all three in the space between the beds, and looked up at Kururu. His side rose and fell in slow breaths, already asleep.

After several false starts, Tamama climbed into the bottom bunk opposite Kururu's and eased onto his back. It was nothing compared to his huge bed at the Nishizawa mansion, covered in cloud-soft pillows and an endless supply of candy, but it was heaven after sleeping on rocks.

* * *

Tamama awoke to the dryness in the back of his throat. He swallowed, glanced at the canteens nestled between the bunks, then stared at the slats holding up the mattress above him. He hated how he was getting used to being thirsty, but decided it could wait a little longer.

He pushed himself up with his right arm to look at the bunk across from his. Kururu was curled up facing the wall, shivering in the center of the other bed. Tamama gnawed a little at the inside of his cheek, stepped across the gap between the beds, and got on his hands and knees beside him. Kururu was streaked with sweat, and didn't respond to Tamama's weight sinking in nearby.

"Kururu?" Tamama held out a hand, a few inches from touching. "Can you hear me?"

Kururu muttered something unintelligible, but didn't stir. Tamama placed a hand on Kururu's upper arm, and quickly took it back—Kururu was hotter than before. Tamama slipped to the floor, eyes darting, for something. Finding no alternative, he gripped the puffy end of his bunk's mattress in both hands, and twisted. Head down and eyes squeezed shut, his breath halted as the pain in his side intensified, until he ripped a small chunk away. He waited for the whiteness blocking his sight to fade, then opened the plastic water bottle and dampened the fluffy cloth in his hand.

Tamama returned to Kururu's side, reaching for his shoulder with the damp material. He'd barely touched the skin when Kururu came to with a startled hiss of breath and twisted around to grab Tamama by an earflap. Tamama gasped and caught himself with both hands on the mattress as he was jerked down at an angle.

They stayed like that for a few seconds until Kururu's fingers unclenched themselves, and his hand fell limp. The other one went to his face as he let out a long breath. "Don't do that."

Tamama sat back, heart pounding, and picked up the cloth from where his hand squished it into the mattress. "I'm just tryin' to help," he said, placing it on Kururu's forehead.

Kururu reached for it, paused, and lowered his hand again. "Why even bother?"

"Sarge and the others could be lookin' for us." Tamama crossed his legs and kept his eyes on his lap. "We have to survive, don't we?"

"Oh, great." Kururu put his hands on his face, sliding them down slowly. "You're getting even _more_ trite, now that we're stuck at the bottom of a post-apocalyptic hole." Hands at his sides, he stared at the bunk above. "I shoulda known. A dead planet on its way to getting consumed by its own sun. Real convenient location, too." His hands tightened into fists. "It was so _obvious,_ and I didn't see it."

"Y'mean like..." Tamama glanced at Kururu. "The flea got this world first, before it came to Pekopon? And we ended up bringin' it back, so it woke up and—"

"That's not what I'm talkin' about. It wouldn't do that." Kururu relaxed his hands at his sides. "Doesn't go for seconds."

Tamama knit his brow. "Then why?"

Kururu laughed without humor. "If I'd had the... taken the time to, anyway, I'd know." He turned his face away from Tamama, the makeshift compress sliding onto the mattress. "Could've avoided all this." His voice got quieter. "Too late now."

Tamama's stomach knotted. The alcove was too small for that much reality, and he removed himself from it without another word.

One step into the main storage room, and his eyes met the alien corpse's empty sockets. His stomach-knots went icy. If he ran into that gaze every time he left, his sanity would be the platoon's first certain death.

He approached the body, forever reaching one-armed into the empty container, and removed it with both hands. It was weightless and brittle, all fluids long since drained, a curve indenting its torso where the rim had pressed into it. The one-piece rag kept Tamama from touching its dried flesh, but he shuddered at the feel of skeletal contours through threadbare cloth.

With the ragdoll mummy all but spilling from his arms, he realized he didn't know any other way out of the room except the telepad. That's when he spotted a wider-than-usual space between two containers, and found the outline of a sliding door. It opened smoothly, not quite as rust-obstructed as some of the other doors.

He was deep within the chasm, and the orb light from inside the supply room only reached as far as the railing, leaving everything beyond it a black void. Tamama approached the rail, placed the alien corpse below it, and shoved it off the edge with one foot.

The body made a splashing noise a few seconds later.

Tamama's mouth hung open in a long gasp. "Water!" He leaned against the railing and stared hard into the depths. His eyes adjusted enough to make out ripples not far below, and he waved his tail. Then he thought about what he'd just thrown in.

The pool's reflective surface showed that one corpse didn't matter. It was filled with them.

Tamama scrambled back into the room and shut the door as if pursued.


	8. I'm Right Here

Keroro opened his eyes. It was dark, silent, and something dirty blocked his mouth when he breathed.

He flung his limbs in all directions as he envisioned worms lining up to crawl through his skull, and a thin sheet of soiled plastic flew away from him at the first kick. He watched it float above him for a second, dark green and torn at a ragged angle, until it came to rest on his body.

Keroro pushed it away and sat up in a cramped enclosure made of scrap metal and tarp. Recent memories crept in, as did an ache in his sides, and he rubbed them to find horizontal bruises just above his hips.

An orange glow flickered at the edges of a piece of tarp hanging over one side of the squat shelter. Keroro crawled over and pulled it aside to see a small campfire on flat, open ground, flames licking towards a starry sky.

Giroro sat beside it and stirred the coals with a bent metal wire.

Keroro burst from the shelter in a tangle of unbridled joy. He tripped over his own feet, hit the ground, and sprang up again, moving forward the whole time. "Giroro!" His voice was hoarse, but he couldn't tell if it was from thirst or tears.

He staggered and fell to his knees a couple feet from Giroro, who kept his eyes on the fire. The corporal had a bandage over his unscarred eye, and a few more around his arms and torso, but they didn't hamper him as he dug a dried rodent out of the coals with the thick wire. The uneaten rations Dororo had carried were lined up on a ripped portion of the carrying cloth next to both canteens.

Keroro got his knees underneath him and edged closer. "I _knew_ you were alive! I never stopped believin' for a second."

Giroro bit into the meat, his fangs standing out against the dull pink exterior. He chewed, grunting a little. "Little bland, but suitable enough, I suppose."

Keroro grinned and shrugged a shoulder. "Yeah, they're not so bad. But some ketchup or something would really—"

"It's a lucky thing this came along just as I was on the last of the water." Giroro finished the ration in another large bite. "And not a day after the Type G ran out, too."

"You're darn right you're lucky." Keroro huffed. "Why, if I hadn't shown up, you'd probably be done for." Giroro tucked another ration into the coals, and took a sip from one of the canteens. "Anyhow, we better go back and find Dororo. He must've met up with Tamama and Kururu by now."

"With this, I can wait until the flea comes back," Giroro said, poking the fire again. Keroro frowned and tilted his head to one side. "Not much time left until it has to feed on something, and it'll come straight to me." Giroro's face darkened in the firelight as he revealed his sharp teeth. "And my acid round."

Keroro opened his mouth, then closed it again. Giroro was terrible at pranks, but the sergeant couldn't deduce any other reason for his behavior. Maybe he'd thrown the tarp over him to keep all the food to himself.

Keroro shook his head at the ground. Giroro wasn't any good at being selfish, either. Maybe he thought no one else needed it.

A fine trembling overtook his hands, which intensified the longer he stared at them. He pressed them into his face, and needing more evidence, pinched and stretched his cheeks until tears came out.

Still alive. He rubbed his stinging face and sighed, then looked up at Giroro. "Hey, can you can hear me?"

Giroro dug out the second ration and stuck the wire upright in the dirt with the rodent skewered at one end. "Yeah, I hear you."

Keroro jumped to his feet and swung his clenched fists down at his sides. "You big red buttface! How _dare_ you ignore your commanding officer!"

"I was wondering when I'd start hearing their voices," Giroro said. He smiled softly and shook his head at the campfire. "Of all the ones to hear first..."

Keroro stared. His mouth fell open, closed, then he tried again. "But I'm okay. I'm here. I'm _right here._" His jaw ached, and his throat squeezed the volume out of his words. "Giroro, _look_ at me. This isn't funny anymore!"

No reply from the corporal, still staring into the flames. Whatever wounds the bandages hid, Keroro didn't care. He punched Giroro square in the chin. The corporal's visible eye widened as he fell onto his side.

"You ungrateful jerk!" Keroro's words ran together in a broken shrill. "Can't even see your own commander standing in front of you? This is what happens after ten thousand years? I'm _dead_ to you?!" Giroro touched a hand to his sore chin as Keroro's tear-ragged ranting lowered to a wail. "I could be home buildin' Gundam models right now!"

A fuse sparked in Giroro's brain, sending reaction shrapnel through his muscles. Shards of metal and ball bearings, smelted from long-endured irresponsibility, tempered his fist as he plowed it into Keroro's face.

Keroro's feet left the ground as his body did a little twist, and he landed face-first. The fire filled the silence with a few snaps, until Keroro rolled onto his back and propped himself up by his elbows.

Giroro stared at his fist, lowered it, then looked at Keroro. "You're really here."

Keroro grinned through a bloody nose. "In the flesh."

He grunted as Giroro grasped his arms around Keroro. Giroro's fingers made imprints on Keroro's skin as he said in a harsh whisper, "Then stay that way, you idiot."

* * *

Dororo sped up his controlled descent into the chasm. He was closing in on Tamama and Kururu's life signals, and becoming more certain which one was fading.

Complete darkness didn't slow his progress or prevent him from finding footholds. As a ninja, it was his element. One of the signals was on a walkway far below, and after finding a safe height to jump from, he dropped straight down to meet it.

He crouched upon landing, cushioning the impact with a little chi. As he stood, someone in front of him gasped and stumbled, and he reached out to steady them.

"Wha, who, who is it?!" Tamama stiffened in Dororo's arms. The private's hat flaps swished as he looked around blindly.

"It's me."

"Dororo?" Tamama relaxed.

Dororo let go of him. "Are you all right?"

"I... yeah, I-I'm okay." Tamama took a small step back. His voice was quiet and strained. "But Kururu, I dunno if he's..."

Dororo nodded. "Let's hurry."

Tamama trailed his fingers along the wall to guide himself, and Dororo followed at the younger Keronian's pace. They passed several doors until Tamama ducked into the first open one. Dororo blinked as familiar orbs lit the cylinder-lined room.

"He's in here." Tamama continued to an alcove tucked in a corner. It featured a single, softer light, and was all but filled with two bunk beds. Metal canteens occupied the space between them.

Dororo peered over the side of one bunk and found Kururu with his back facing them, half-sunk into the soft center. He climbed onto the bed and knelt, putting a hand on Kururu's shoulder to shake him awake.

He pulled back after no more than a touch. "He's burning up." He glanced back at Tamama, who was standing on tiptoe by the bed.

"I dunno what went wrong." Tamama lowered himself a little and gripped the edge of the mattress. "He was okay until a few hours ago, then he just..."

Facing the bed again, Dororo noticed the dirt-stained bandage around Kururu's lower-right leg. He placed his hands on it, causing Kururu to pull away.

"Just bear with me," Dororo said. Kururu curled up tighter, but Dororo still unraveled the bandage, revealing a bled-through gauze pad peeling away from a swollen gash underneath. His brow furrowed. "How did this...?"

"I—I made sure to change it and everything!" Tamama protested. "It wasn't supposed to..." The onset of tears squelched his voice into silence.

"It's infected, and dangerously so." Dororo looked back at Tamama. "Can you help me get him to the main room?"

Tamama sniffled and rubbed a forearm across his eyes, then nodded. Dororo left Kururu's side and scanned the bottom bunks before leaping to the one above Tamama's. Four blanket rolls sat on top, and he unrolled one of them enough to cut a thick white strip.

He returned to Kururu's bunk with the material hanging around his neck, and turned him onto his back. Kururu's hands found unsteady purchase on Dororo's shoulders and tried to shove him away.

Dororo took Kururu's hands and pushed them down with little force. "It's me, Dororo. I've come to help."

Kururu faced him in a lethargic motion. "But you're dead."

"I am whole, as you can see." Dororo slid his arms around Kururu's chest and shoulders and sat him up; Kururu didn't resist. Dororo maneuvered him to the edge of the bed, where Tamama helped him to the floor, and they each slung one of Kururu's arms over their shoulders and dragged him out.

Dororo didn't intend to take Kururu far. The metal floor outside the alcove had an uneven spot, a thin crack that was slightly wider at one end, with space underneath.

They only went six feet, but Tamama quivered with every step, and his eyes teared up.

"This is far enough," Dororo said. Tamama's support vanished as he fell against the wall by the alcove and slid down, holding an arm around his left side and taking shallow breaths. Dororo propped Kururu on the other wall nearby and looked back at the youngest Keronian. The bruises on the left side of Tamama's torso were almost as dark as his skin. "What happened to you?"

"I'm okay." Tamama's response was a shaky whisper. "I just, I landed bad. When we fell down here."

Dororo considered doing the next task alone, but decided he couldn't risk going without assistance when a platoon member's life was at stake. So he gave Tamama a few moments while he made preparations. Dororo placed the blanket strip to one side, then unwrapped the remains of the carrying cloth from around his body, and placed the heating element on the floor a few feet away. He turned it on, then unsheathed his sword as the unit glowed to life.

"Tamama." Dororo paused to gauge the private's response. When Tamama lifted his face to make eye contact, it was still drawn with pain, but he sat up straighter. "How much water do you have left?"

"Uh, plenty." Tamama stood, wincing a little. "Should I go get it?"

"Please. One canteen should do." Dororo turned to the heating unit as Tamama retreated to the alcove. He put his hands together in a few swift signs, conjuring a small wave of water. With movements a normal person wouldn't see as even a blur, Dororo slashed his sword through the water as it boiled in midair above the glowing metal. The liquid was gone in an instant, not a drop of it landing on anything but Dororo's steaming blade.

He set his sword down and twisted what was left of the carrying cloth into a thin strip. Tamama exited the alcove with one of the canteens, and Dororo turned to Kururu, who listed to his left by the wall.

As Dororo took him under the arms, Kururu squeezed him just above the elbow to stall his movement. His voice carried more lucidity than before. "What're you tryin' to do?"

"I'm taking care of your injury before it kills you." Dororo maneuvered Kururu so he was lying on his stomach lengthwise, exposing the back of his legs and allowing easy access to the wound.

Kururu shivered on the chill floor and drew his arms in. "What, so you're gonna do it first?"

Dororo took the twisted carrying cloth strip and cinched it around Kururu's right thigh. He retrieved his sword, steam still rising from it, and faced the private. "Tamama, the water?"

"Got it." Tamama sat the canteen nearby. Dororo unscrewed the cap and slid it aside, keeping it within reach. Tamama's gaze moved between the heating element, Kururu, and Dororo's sword. "Um... what're you gonna do?"

Dororo positioned his sword above the wound, eyes focused on the spot. "It needs to be drained first. Please hold him."

Tamama's eyes widened, but he shuffled over on his knees in front of Kururu, and pinned the sergeant major's arms to the floor with both hands. Kururu lifted his head in a quick distressed motion and tried to look over his shoulder as Dororo pressed a knee into his left leg.

Kururu's tone was as clear as his realization. "You wouldn't..."

Dororo made one fluid movement with his sword to shred every fiber of bloody gauze away, then began a slower, single vertical slice up the wound. Tamama had already ducked his head, and didn't know anything had happened until Kururu seized up against them with a suppressed cry. The private's face turned ashen, but he held firm, even as Kururu tried to drag him to the floor.

As Dororo opened the infection, blood and off-white liquid drained into the crack under the floor. Kururu cursed Dororo's existence in a run-on sentence, pressing his face against the floor as he crushed imprints into Tamama's arms and dug his left heel into Dororo's side.

Clear fluid, then bright red ran from the wound as Dororo finished draining it, and he retrieved the previously opened canteen with one hand. He poured water over his sword and onto the wound, then turned to the heating element. As he held his blade above the metal for a few seconds, Tamama sobbed.

Dororo returned with the sword almost hot enough to sear his palm through the handle. "Forgive me," he said, and placed the flat of the blade directly on the cut.

Kururu didn't yell so much as make a strangled noise, but the floor was wet with more than just Tamama's tears. He no longer had the strength to keep the private's forearms in a death grip.

Dororo lifted the blade away after one second; the wound was sealed. Those dreaded cauterization drills in training hadn't gone to waste after all. He set his still-heated sword aside and untied the cloth from Kururu's thigh, waiting as circulation returned to his lower leg. The fresh burn showed no change after several seconds, so Dororo took the blanket strip and bandaged the wound with it.

He sat back with a sigh, and turned off the heating element. "It's done." Tamama lifted his arms away, rubbing them and looking away with tear trails drying on his face. Kururu was no longer responsive, his skin more grey than yellow. "You did well, Tamama. I'll handle it from here."

Tamama didn't reply as he got to his feet and trudged to the alcove. Dororo turned Kururu onto his back, and slung him over one shoulder before following. Dororo couldn't hear a sound from Kururu, but felt him breathing, and that was enough.

Dororo entered the alcove, where Tamama was already curled up in his bunk. His own joints complained, but he carried Kururu with even steps and placed him on the other bottom bunk before leaving for the main room.

"Finish me off, why don't you." Kururu's thready voice halted Dororo at the doorway.

"On the contrary." Dororo left and returned with the canteen, as well as his sword. The weapon had cooled enough for him to sheathe. "I intend for all of us to leave here alive."

He opened the canteen and held it so Kururu could drink. He only took a few swallows before nudging it back. "Like 'all of us' even means anything now."

Dororo placed the cap on the canteen and set it aside. "It has only as much meaning as you're willing to give it." He leapt onto Tamama's top bunk, and dropped to the floor with the three untorn blankets. One each went to Tamama and Kururu, then Dororo sat at the foot of Kururu's bed with his own, within easy reach of the canteen.

Kururu sighed and turned his face toward the wall. Dororo closed his eyes, controlling his drowsiness through meditation to wait out the night.


	9. This Is After

_The first chapter with an actual title! I'll have to go back and name the others as well. Thanks to everyone for their views and support so far. Enjoy._

* * *

Keroro and Giroro swapped stories and injury reports in the campfire light. Save the bruises on his sides, Keroro had survived direct contact with the flea unscathed (the devil's luck, Giroro called it). Keroro inquired after the corporal's bandaged state, and Giroro briefly unwrapped his eye and one of his arms to show it wasn't as bad as it looked.

"Well, that's a relief." Keroro sat slouched and cross-legged in front of the fire. "It's like I told Dororo, it'd take more than a little fall to kill you."

Giroro paused in the middle of stoking the flames. "What do you mean?"

Keroro blinked. "Don't you remember? I mean, I don't, but Dororo said you kept the flea from attacking us when we fell toward the planet. Real dramatic action hero stuff." He searched Giroro's face. "You really don't remember?"

"Not a thing." The fire popped and a cinder landed near Giroro's feet. "I had these injuries when I woke up, with the ship's debris everywhere." He gestured to the junk scattered around them, including the makeshift shelter. "With no way to contact anyone, I guess I assumed the worst."

The glowing cinder that had caught Keroro's gaze as he listened faded to grey.

"What about the others?" Giroro's question made Keroro look up. "Besides the two of us, and Dororo... anyone else make it?"

Keroro sat up straighter and nodded. "I haven't seen 'em myself, but I heard Tamama and Kururu resonating back at us." He balled his hands into fists. "And we were _just_ about to get to 'em, but that stupid flea—"

Giroro held up a hand to stop Keroro. "Hold on. The four of you were resonating? With _that_ thing around?"

"Well what were we supposed to do?" Keroro huffed. "It's the only long-distance communication we got right now. Speakin' of!" He got to his feet. "If Dororo's still out there, we should—"

Giroro reached him in two swift steps and grasped Keroro by the shoulder. "Don't."

Keroro whipped around, wrenching himself from Giroro's hold with an order on the tip of his tongue. But the look in Giroro's uncovered eye made him decide it wasn't worth it.

"With any luck, Dororo managed to regroup with Kururu and Tamama," said Giroro. "But for now, we'll have to make our own chance to do the same."

"Make it?" Keroro sat by the fire again, which flickered lower against the night.

Giroro found a seat beside him. "I plan on killing the flea next time it shows up." He jabbed a thumb back at the scrap shelter. "Acid round's in there."

Keroro's mouth dropped open. "I totally forgot about that! Heck, I'm surprised it made it here in one piece!"

The corporal shrugged. "I was going to complete this mission alone, if I had to."

Keroro snorted. "Glory hog. So when do you think it'll come?"

"At a guess, I'd say tomorrow morning." Giroro crossed his arms. "No doubt it'll be after the meal that got away."

Keroro's breath squeaked in his throat and he hugged his arms around himself. "Tha-that's not funny! I almost _died,_ ya know!"

"I'm serious, Keroro. Think about it. When's the last time the flea ate anything? It came to Pekopon looking for a meal, and we intercepted it."

Keroro processed this for a moment. "That's right, Dororo mentioned it'd be after us. But why _me?_"

Giroro grinned, wide and sharp. "Because now it has a taste for green dumpling."

Keroro scowled hugged himself tighter. "Not helping!"

For the first time since they left Earth, Giroro laughed.

Keroro relaxed his arms and sighed, his indignant energy gone. "Can we at least get some sleep? I'm bushed."

Giroro nodded and stood, ducking into the shelter. Keroro followed suit, the last of the fire smoldering behind them.

"Your tent was so much roomier."

"Deal with it."

* * *

Thick clouds called for another storm. Their rusty vapor backed by the orange-red sun lent intensity to the morning air.

Giroro briefed Keroro on the operation in the time it took them to eat two XV-Kasian rations each. They headed out afterwards, and Giroro took a hand-sized sphere wrapped in metal bands with him: their ace.

The two walked a hundred paces or so, keeping a tense silence between them. The area around the campsite was flat and bare, like the plateau Keroro had landed on days before. Giroro stopped, and Keroro halted a couple steps later, taking a moment to brace himself.

When the butterflies in his stomach settled enough, Keroro glanced sideways at his friend. Giroro nodded once, then lifted a hand and curled each finger inward, one at a time. When his hand became a fist, they began.

_Gero gero gero gero..._

_Giro giro giro giro..._

The air rang with their combined voices, drowning out a low rumble from above. Pattering rain accompanied their duet, darkening the dirt in droves of dots.

Seconds later, a lone spectator thundered across the wastes.

Both Keronians stopped resonating, and Giroro darted several yards away. Keroro shifted his feet into a ready stance and waited as the hulking lump in the distance bounced closer.

Each raindrop felt like a second hand ticking backward. He hoped it wasn't meant for him.

One more jump, and the flea would be in place. As it bunched up its back legs, Giroro flipped the metal-banded sphere button-side up and pressed it with his thumb. The flea leapt, and the bands spread and coiled away to wrap around Giroro's outstretched forearm.

The rain, the flea, the air, everything except Keroro's heart seemed to slow down. He noticed, with alarming clarity, each movement the descending flea made as it pointed its bladed forelegs at him.

_There's only one acid round. There's only one acid round. There's only—_

The flea shifted to aim its life-sucking mouthparts at Keroro's chest instead.

Keroro bolted as Giroro sighted his arm-cannon at the flea's head. The flea's mouthparts pierced solid rock, driving straight through until the flea's cycloptic centered eye was inches from the ground.

Giroro steadily moved the arm-cannon's sights, waiting for the electronic aiming reticle's signal. With his depth perception hampered, he couldn't afford to miss.

He stopped at an electronic double-beep, squeezed the trigger, and experienced zero recoil as a small glass sphere shot from the barrel.

The acid round had scarcely left the gun when the stone trapping the space flea's mouthparts cracked and turned to sand.

Keroro stopped running when he heard the gun fire. Turning against his body's panicked desire to keep going and never stop, and appeasing it with mental images of the space flea melting into an aromatic puddle of defeat, he about-faced.

He hadn't gotten as far as he thought. The flea's shadow still darkened the soaked land around him, and he could see raindrops spattering off its carapace. Its completely solid carapace.

The space flea's mouthparts were completely embedded in the plateau, a perfect imitation of its Earth counterpart on a fleshy host. A shallow crater spread around it.

Keroro whipped his gaze to Giroro, who still aimed the arm-cannon at the flea. "Didn't you shoot it?!"

Giroro didn't move or respond. In his head, a scene ran on loop. As the round hurtled towards the flea's eye, caustic liquid sloshing inside, the target's head dipped a half-inch. The round bounced between its front antennae, rolled down its back, and disappeared.

A grey dust cloud formed around the flea. Keroro stared; it was too rainy for dust. Then he realized the growing crater around the flea wasn't even wet.

Keroro's gut curdled as he somehow knew what was happening, but couldn't put it into words. He ran to Giroro, who was closer to the crater, and grabbed his gun-arm.

"Let's get outta here!" Keroro tugged; Giroro didn't so much as face him. "_Giroro!_"

Giroro's arm lowered to his side as if on automatic, and the contraption slipped from his dampened skin to the ground. Keroro was close enough now to see that any rain falling into the crater dried the second it fell in, and the rock had gone from red to grey to ash-white.

Before the dust had obscured it, Giroro saw the flea's single eye, its line-thin vertical pupil oscillating madly. Keroro pulled again, and Giroro lurched toward him, unplanting his feet and running with Keroro yanking his arm the whole way.

* * *

The rain made a solo as it drummed on the various materials making up the shelter. The drenched remains of the campfire leaked soot in rivulets.

Keroro sat crouched in the shelter. He glanced across the cramped space every so often, and every time, Giroro still had his head in his hands.

Keroro licked his lips; they tasted rusty, but were at least already moist. "Listen, it's not—"

"I had one shot." Giroro's fingers clenched on his head. "_One shot._ And I blew it."

"But—" Keroro searched for the words. "The flea did something, it was almost like..." The near-comprehension from earlier blossomed into understanding. "Like it was trying to eat the planet. You couldn't have known it was gonna do that."

"But I should have." Giroro sighed at the ground. "It's been starved into losing its mind at this point. This was our last chance to kill it." He lowered his arms. "I'm sorry, Keroro."

Rain and thunder took over the conversation. Keroro stared at his feet. Out of his entire dirt-stained body, they'd been dyed the darkest from hours of sun-scorched walking.

His hands curled themselves into fists. "Let's go find the others."

"And do what?" The bitter clip in Giroro's tone lacked energy. "We've failed the mission. There's nothing—"

"When did I say you could give up, soldier?!" Keroro overrode him with sharp delivery. "I won't tolerate that kinda sissy-talk around he—"

The sergeant stood to exercise rank and authority, slammed his head against the low ceiling, and sat back cringing with tears in his eyes.

Giroro looked up at a thin whining sound, and saw Keroro straining not to cry out. His mind blanked on a response.

"Dororo's still out there." Keroro braced his hands on the floor, eyes still closed and voice quiet. "He didn't think you were alive."

Giroro's throat constricted. He swallowed and said, "He didn't?"

Keroro nodded, opening his eyes. "He couldn't sense you. I guess he figured that sealed the deal, but I didn't wanna believe it." A smile tugged at his expression as his voice grew stronger. "And here you are. How d'ya like _them_ apples?"

Giroro stared at his hands. He hadn't been devoured or simply dropped dead when the acid round missed. He'd been so focused on succeeding that failure became an undesirable void.

But Keroro sat grinning in front of him. He hadn't succeeded, but there was no void.

_I see now._ Giroro clenched his hands. _This is after!_

Keroro got on his knees and held his right hand out to Giroro. "C'mon, daruma. Let's go back and rub it in Doro-mire's face."

Giroro met Keroro's eyes, seized his hand, and grinned back.


	10. Anodyne

Dororo realized he'd failed to keep his drowsiness in check when he awoke to someone else's muttering. He rubbed between his eyes, unable to determine how long he'd been out, and shifted his blanket aside to check on Kururu.

The sergeant major slept as Dororo hovered over him in the alcove's soft light. After checking Kururu's pulse with an imperceptible touch, finding it stronger than before, Dororo backed towards his corner of the bed again.

"That you, Commander?"

Dororo froze. Kururu's breathing was deep and even.

After a moment, Dororo settled into the corner and drew the blanket around his shoulders, deciding Kururu would make it through the night.

* * *

Hours later, the smell of meat cooking drew Tamama out of the alcove. He stopped halfway across the main room, blinked at the dried rodent on the heating element next to a pile of others, and his sleepy brain put the enticing smell and the image in front of him together.

"You can cook those?" was the best thing Tamama could come up with.

Dororo laughed a little, seated in front of the heating element. "Are you hungry? I've prepared some."

Tamama nodded vigorously and sat near Dororo, lowering himself at a careful speed. Dororo gave him one from the pile, and Tamama munched the torso like it was corn on the cob, turning it by its head and pronged tail.

Dororo added the latest cooked ration to the pile and deactivated the heating element. He sensed rather than saw Tamama's outstretched hand, and turned to the private to place a still-warm ration in his palm.

Tamama took two bites and swallowed before asking, "What do we do now?"

"Normally, we would wait here to rest and heal," Dororo said. He crossed his arms. "But our situation is far from ideal, and Keroro may not be able to wait that long, if he needs someone to find him."

Tamama's ration hit the floor as his eyes went huge. "Sarge is alive?!"

Dororo fumbled for words at that reaction. He'd completely forgotten to tell them. "Yes. We were traveling together to find you and Kururu after hearing your resonance."

His food forgotten, Tamama inched closer to the ninja. "Then what...?"

Dororo studied the floor, fingers tightening on his crossed arms. "The flea separated us." At Tamama's visible dismay, he added, "I didn't see what became of him. He flew out of my sight." He met Tamama's eyes. "I can only hope he's surviving somewhere."

Tamama looked down and picked up his half-eaten ration with little enthusiasm.

"It's thanks to our commander that I was able to begin looking for you two in the first place," Dororo said, reaching into the cooked meat pile.

The private looked up with shining eyes. "Really?"

Dororo nodded, then stood with two rations in hand. "Is Kururu awake yet?"

"I think he has been for a while." Tamama bit the head off his ration. "Not like he wants anybody to know that."

"Is that so." Dororo walked towards the alcove. "Help yourself to more, if you'd like."

While Tamama finished off his second ration and went for a third, Dororo entered the alcove. Kururu lay on his stomach with his face half-hidden behind folded arms. The blanket was drawn up over most of his head. His laptop, which Dororo had found in a far corner of the main room and placed near Kururu before starting on the rations, laid unopened before him.

Dororo climbed up to sit on the end of the bed; Kururu didn't even turn. The lance corporal held up the two rodents by their stiff tails. "It'd help you to try eating something."

Kururu made the slightest motion of hunkering down more than he already was, and Dororo lowered his arm. Eventually, Kururu's voice reached him.

"You said that just to get his hopes up, right."

Tamama's expression going from dismal to radiant flashed through Dororo's mind, accompanied by his last sight of Keroro flying away from him.

"Keroro helped me find you two faster than if I had gone alone. That much is certain." He fixed his eyes on Kururu. "If the worst has indeed happened, then I don't want his—our efforts to be in vain."

"Resonance, huh." Kururu placed a hand on the closed laptop and rubbed his thumb along the top edge. "Sure as hell wasn't _your_ dumb idea."

He paused, then tilted his hand back over his shoulder. Dororo scooted closer and gave him a ration, which swiftly vanished under the blanket. Kururu's hand was in position again in seconds.

Dororo smiled and handed him the other ration. "I suppose I'll have to prepare more." He slid off the mattress, and encountered Tamama at the doorway. "How was it?"

"Oh, I'm stuffed." Tamama patted his belly with both hands. "I think I'll take a nap." He climbed into his bunk with measured movements, rolled onto his uninjured side, and pulled the blanket over himself with a yawn.

"Actually." Hearing Kururu's lowered voice, Dororo walked back. The laptop was open and booting up. "I might have a job for ya." He glanced at Tamama, who had his back to them. "How much food we got left?"

Dororo sat on the bed behind Kururu and matched the sergeant major's speaking volume. "Two days between the three of us. Four between you two."

"And water?"

"Less than that. I had to rely on it more than I would've liked." Dororo stared at the palms of his hands. He'd been too exhausted the night before to meditate properly, and not much of his chi had returned.

Kururu kept his eyes on the laptop screen, opening programs and typing intermittently. "We'd better get back to the surface, then."

"Not with your leg still healing."

Kururu shrugged under the blanket. "Time's a luxury we don't have."

Dororo knit his brow, unable to argue the point. "What sort of job did you have in mind?"

"Look at this." Kururu maximized one of the programs to show the chasm layout he'd downloaded. "We're here," he said, clicking to place a flag on their storage room near the bottom of the map, "and I want you to head up here." He drew an anti-aliased line reaching five floors above them to the opposite side of the chasm. "It's marked as a chemical storage, and with any luck it'll have something we can use."

Dororo took a moment to memorize the path and nodded. "Understood." He lowered himself to the floor and waited as Kururu tapped a few keys to establish a comm link. A short crackle in his ear and a thumbs-up from Kururu later, Dororo was out the door.

* * *

His senior sure was taking his time, Kururu thought. For the last ten minutes, Kururu had watched Dororo's blue dot move up and around the side of the chasm in increments. He guessed he and Tamama weren't the only ones performing at less than a hundred percent.

Dororo finally neared the chemical room. He didn't move for another minute, and just as Kururu's finger hovered over the designated talk button, the dot entered. Kururu had no map details of individual rooms, so he listened.

Static preceded Dororo's voice. "As you expected, there are indeed medicinal items here." The dot shifted back and forth. "I can recognize most of it."

Kururu propped his chin up on folded arms. "So what've we got here?"

"Antibiotics, painkillers, disinfectant..." A pause. "There are syringes here, but they appear to be the wrong size for us."

"Get whatever we can take orally of the first two, and stuff to apply the third." Kururu waited as the dot jerked around, his program unable to properly track Dororo's ninja speed. "Let's just hope the painkillers aren't too strong or out of date."

The dot stopped. "You're not hurting, are you?"

Kururu squinted his swirls at the screen. "Am I the one who smashed his fucking ribs on a guard rail?"

"So that's what happened." The dot moved again, slower this time. "If there's nothing else we need, I'll head back now."

"I'd love to waste time on a thorough search, but that'll hafta do."

* * *

Dororo slid the door shut behind him, shouldering the gathered supplies in a single-strap satchel he'd found among the medicines. He turned, and was met with the same sight from before he'd entered the chemical room.

Sunlight dimmed by clouds far above dispelled the darkness from the bottom of the pit. The rainwater gathered in the bottom reflected the overcast sky, though most of it was choked with a large mound of cat alien corpses.

Head bowed and eyes closed, a prayer of respect ran through Dororo's mind. His theory about a previous flea's visit seemed even more likely.

Upon thinking that, Dororo gazed at the pile again. Its shape wasn't right somehow.

Dororo shifted his hands and feet into position, focusing on the mound. "_Eye of Judgement._"

His blue irises faded as mechanical lines of Assassin Magic criss-crossed his blank eyes. After a few seconds, the sodden corpse pile came into sharp relief.

In a few more, what was under it did too.

Kururu's dry tone cut through the silence. "What the hell is so damn fascinating?"

Dororo blinked, and his eyes returned to normal. He pressed a hand near his ear and said, "There is a mass grave of this planet's inhabitants at the bottom of this chasm."

"And?"

The lance corporal concentrated on steadying his voice. "And a space flea is among the dead."

* * *

In the alcove of the storage room, Kururu stared through the lines on the map, past its blue background.

The final puzzle piece was at once in line with and completely bucked his theory. Not only had a flea laid XV-Kas to waste, it never left.

The deeper meanings of its presence whirled in his brain. One sank in, confirming the reason behind their space flea's sudden awakening.

The second repeated like a mantra. All his perceived lack of foresight, preparation, research, and everything else he could cite as the cause of the platoon's eventual end on an alien wasteland couldn't silence it.

_It wasn't me._

The phrase settled into his mind and became more real with each passing second. After another moment, Kururu refocused on the laptop screen. He halved the window size of the map, then filled the remaining space with the chasm construction supply list.

"Two floors down and a couple rooms to the left," he said over the comm link. "I just found our ticket outta here."


	11. Obscuring

Dororo reflected on the conversation he'd just had over the comm link with Kururu. The contents of the room below the chemical storage remained fresh in his mind as he took advantage of the rainfall entering the chasm. He made filters from the blanket he'd ripped up for bandages before, collecting more drinking water.

Tamama was awake when Dororo returned to the alcove, or at least tried to look the part.

Dororo noticed Tamama's downcast expression. "How do you feel?"

Tamama lifted his head as if startled, covering it with, "Oh, fine. I'm fine. Just sleepy."

The other two Keronians shared a glance. Tamama loosely cradled his arms around himself.

Dororo sat the single-strap bag on the end of Kururu's bed and extracted the bottle of painkillers.

"You have the most medical knowledge among us," Dororo said, handing the bottle to Kururu. "So if there's anything in particular I may have overlooked..."

Kururu took the bottle and turned it over in both hands to read around the label. "No, we're good. But let's go with one instead of two to start with."

Dororo nodded as Kururu handed it back. Tamama turned his head to follow the movement, eyes on the bottle, and Dororo opened it and shook out a small grey sphere. It rolled into Dororo's palm with unusual weight for its small size.

Tamama accepted the pill and swallowed it with a drink of water. He coughed once, tensed, shuddered, and breathed out.

Then he noticed the others staring at him. "What?"

The silence went on for another beat. Kururu shrugged and said, "Well, he hasn't dropped dead yet. So gimme."

Dororo set the painkillers down. "First," he said, reaching into the bag, "one of these." He pulled out a bottle larger than the last, filled with what appeared to be multicolored ice cream topping.

"Dororo." Kururu crossed his arms, tone admonishing. "You were supposed to get us meds, not jimmies."

Some of Tamama's laughter leaked out as he bit his lip and grinned. Dororo closed his eyes briefly. "Kururu, _please._ Those are the antibiotics you requested."

Kururu laughed a little and took the bottle from him to inspect. The labeled ingredients revealed that each tiny pill contained a different cocktail of ingredients. Individual pills were incomplete, working only when combined with different colors.

The sergeant major located a dosage measurement on the opposite side label of how much to take. He made a mental conversion to milligrams, measured it out in his palm, and swallowed them dry.

Anything Dororo had to say in protest was headed off as Kururu's palm came out again and beckoned for the painkiller. Dororo sighed and handed it over.

"We're gonna leave soon, right?" Tamama's question came out chipper. "How're we gonna get out?"

Kururu looked up from the little grey pill in his hand at Tamama. "Damn, that's good stuff." He took a moment to swallow it, then answered, "You'll see soon enough."

* * *

Morning came. A good distance from the lakebed depression, in a place studded with wind-eroded rock pillars on uneven ground, a small section of soil crumbled into a hole. Moments later, three Keronians emerged, Tamama hopping out first while Dororo gave Kururu a hand up.

"Are you sure we can't take it with us?" said Tamama, speaking at a normal volume. He sported a miniature messenger bag with Kururu's laptop and one of the canteens inside. Dororo had returned to the chemical storage just in case, and found the other bag. "It'd be so much easier than walking."

"Can't afford to," Kururu said, and Dororo nodded. "I'm savin' it for a _special_ occasion." Tamama didn't know what to make of the way Kururu pronounced that word.

"Now that we're outside," Dororo said, "I'll take point to scout ahead, while you two follow at your own pace. I'll return if I find something, or if you require me to." He turned to Kururu. "North-northwest, wasn't it?"

Kururu shifted a bit to keep his weight off his right leg, the wound wrapped in new bandages. "That's where all the seismic activity's comin' from."

Tamama glanced at both of them with his brow furrowed. "What if it comes for us?"

"Unlikely," Kururu said. "Its movements indicate it's occupied with somethin' else already."

Before Tamama could think about that, Dororo bade them both to keep safe and vanished, reappearing in brief glimpses on rock pillars farther and farther away. Kururu made to take a step forward, but halted before he collided with Tamama's open palm.

Tamama's face was as stern as his gesture. "Dororo said you shouldn't be walkin' around."

"Oh, is that so, _private._" Kururu narrowed his eyes; Tamama's had that infuriating glint in them. Tamama turned around and offered his hands behind him. The sergeant major sighed, getting into position. "It's your own damn fault if this screws up your ribs."

"They don't even hurt anymore!" Tamama's cheer made Kururu more aware of the oppressive humidity. Clouds blocked the sun, but kept its heat close. "Now c'mon, Dororo'll get mad if we're not moving too."

With Kururu settled on his back, Tamama started at a walk, then sped up to a jog. For all his reluctance, Kururu didn't complain over the mild jostling, and Tamama kept up his pace.

They had no need to check the map, as all three were headed in the same direction. As soon as Dororo got close enough to sense anything, he was to return to lead them in the exact right direction.

_Kid's really bookin' it._ Kururu had timed the distance in his mind from a trio of rock pillars to a set of twins they'd just passed. _Those pills worked like a charm._ His leg hadn't bothered him since the day before. Even so, he put up little resistance to stay off it. Hot knives made a convincing argument.

Which made him think: maybe Tamama was pushing it a little, carrying him around. But Tamama was a shock trooper, a martial artist, and showed no signs of flagging. Kururu knew if he'd done worse than bruised ribs, Tamama wouldn't be running around, drugs or no drugs.

Tamama stumbled a step, then carried on. Kururu looked down; the ground underneath was still rough and uneven, with flat patches of dead vegetation here and there.

The private readjusted his hold. Not unusual, Kururu thought. It kept him from slipping out of his sweaty arms, after all.

Then he noticed Tamama was sweating and he wasn't. Without the sun's direct rays, Kururu had moisture stuck to him rather than sucked out of him. But Tamama was the one carrying him around, Kururu reminded himself.

_Nothing's wrong,_ Kururu thought. _So _something _has to be._

"Hey." Kururu tugged a stained earflap. "Ain't it about time for a water break?"

"You're thirsty?" Tamama asked, breath puffing out as he jogged. "'Cause I'm still good for a while."

"Same here." Thunder rumbled, low yet distinct. "Just humor me."

The private shrugged, then slowed to a stop to let Kururu off. Kururu seated himself on the rough ground, fidgeting a bit. Tamama flipped open the messenger bag and handed over the canteen.

Kururu gestured to Tamama. "After you."

Tamama shrugged again and took a drink. He shut his eyes tight, as if swallowing a rock, then offered the canteen to Kururu again.

Instead of taking it, Kururu fixed him with an unreadable look.

"What?" Tamama squared his shoulders and frowned.

"Nothin'," Kururu said, taking the canteen.

* * *

Three hours passed in the rock pillar field with no contact from Dororo. Tamama kept a steady pace, only stopping when Kururu asked him to.

It was every thirty minutes. Usually to stretch his legs, but always to make Tamama drink something.

"Hey, stop for a sec."

The fourth time. Tamama ignored Kururu and kept going under low-hanging clouds.

"You heard me."

"No way," Tamama said, not slowing his pace.

The clouds flashed lightning messages, replied with thunder, and rain finally washed the heat from the air. It began as a deluge, the uneven ground already forming small puddles everywhere.

Tamama splashed through them, the two of them already sopping wet. A pair of pillars loomed in the mist ahead, one with its top third crumbled off beside it.

Kururu poked the back of Tamama's head. "Seriously, we can't run around like this in low visibility. Lemme off so I can get our bearings."

"_Fine._" Tamama veered left for the two and two-thirds pillars. Once there, he let Kururu down, shoved the bag in his hands, and crossed his arms in a huff.

Kururu sat cross-legged and retrieved his laptop to check the map. Rusty rain slid between the keys of the moisture-proof computer as Kururu zoomed out from their current position. Despite repeated taps, only his and Tamama's dots were present.

"Must be pretty far out," Kururu muttered. Tamama paced, pulled himself onto the fallen pillar portion, and sat banging his heels against the rock. "But he can't be too... ah." A blue dot showed on the upper-left reaches of the map, and Kururu zoomed out once more to keep Dororo's ever-moving signal in view. "Yep, we're a little off. But we can afford to hang out here 'til the storm lets up. He's probably—"

"But what if he ends up waiting for us?" Tamama slapped the rock with both hands. "For all we know, he coulda found Sarge by now!"

Kururu looked up from his laptop. "And he would've called us about it, numbnuts. Why the hell wouldn't he?"

"Because—" Tamama searched for a response. "I don't know! Let's just keep moving." He slid off the rock, bouncing on his feet. "Can't we just go already?"

Kururu lifted the laptop and turned it downward, excess water running onto the ground. "Go on by yourself if you like. I'm sure Dororo'd be real happy about that."

Tamama stomped the sodden ground. "Why're you such a freakin' butt, Kururu?!"

Kururu propped his elbow on his left knee and leaned into it, smirking. "Takes one to know one."

"That's it, I'm gone!" Tamama whipped around, fists clenched. "And I don't care if you get struck by lightning, or eaten, or whatever!" He flicked his tail at Kururu and strode away. "'Cause you _deserve_ it!"

Kururu watched him leave without changing position. Just after passing the fallen rock portion, Tamama stopped, put a hand on it, and stared at the ground.

"What, had enough solo adventuring already?" Kururu sat up and crossed his arms. "Just cut the act already and take five."

Tamama's gaze remained on the rust-muddied earth. He took another step forward, then stumbled to his knees behind the rock out of Kururu's sight.

Kururu started to get up, and froze when he heard retching.

It stopped, eventually. He was sure, because the pounding rain that had been unable to drown it out the past several minutes now replaced every sound.

Kururu stood and sidled around the rock. The rain had washed away any mess, and Tamama lay on his side, unmoving.

He'd been right to suspect something, Kururu realized. But he'd still been wrong.


	12. For the Living

_Over 1,000 views! Thank you!_

* * *

Dororo ran across the wastes in the direction Kururu had indicated, north by northwest. Rain glided off him, unable to find a hold as the ninja resisted encroaching fatigue. He kept his senses open; as Tamama and Kururu's presences lagged farther behind, he waited for new ones to appear ahead of him.

The sloping rise to a plateau came into view. In his near-trance of concentration, he didn't see the mesa anywhere near as much as he felt the two life signals atop it. He spurred himself onward, and as if in response, the two headed for him.

His encouragement faded, however. Their speed was disquieting. Dororo stopped near the top of the rise, and for an instant, the two signals vanished.

At the exact same time, the space flea soared overhead, stealing every type of vision Dororo possessed. He could already feel its intent to attack him like hot needles under his skin, and dodged its head-first strike. The flea's mouthparts drove into the ground where he'd just been, causing Dororo to jump further away as all ground moisture within a ten foot radius evaporated, and deep cracks formed. The surface broke up, turning from rock to sand to color-drained ash.

The flea's constricted slit-pupil vibrated as it found no sustenance in the dead earth.

The two presences started moving again, and the flea jerked back, freeing itself in a flurry of white ash. It lunged for Dororo, who hopped back, rebounded onto one of its extended forelegs, and alighted on its armored back.

The flea twisted onto its back in reflex. Expecting this, Dororo sprang away, and the flea fell into the shallow pit it just made. Its thrashing legs created an ash cloud, which Dororo used as an impromptu smoke screen to escape before the flea could right itself.

_They're close now,_ he thought as he sprinted for the two life signals. _Very close._

He made out a shape, then a figure in the rain mist ahead. A voice called out, the clearest he'd heard in days.

"_Dororooo!_"

Dororo heart leapt, and he ran faster. Behind him, the flea rolled upright and bunched its legs under itself.

"Dororo!" Another voice, and not his imagination. The second silhouette was really there.

Dororo's heart, practically in his throat, did not block his voice. "Giro—"

The flea slammed down behind Dororo, so close that the ninja bounced straight up five feet. The shock was enough to send him to his hands and knees when he landed, and he fought to get his feet under himself.

Dororo's nerves lit up again. He didn't need to look to know the flea's mouthparts were fast approaching his unprotected neck.

Something rusty-red shot out of the mist and impacted with the flea's single eye. It reared back in voiceless pain, bucking around in a fruitless attempt to dislodge it. The ground quaked as the flea sprang once, twice, three times—away from Dororo, into the mist.

The two silhouettes gained feature and character as they came into clearer view: Keroro puffing like he'd been running a marathon, and Giroro, an acid round shooter strapped to one of his forearms. The moist air rippled with heat around its muzzle.

Giroro waved his other arm, shouting something. Dororo rose on shaky limbs and almost fell forward, but managed to start running again. The world went mute as Dororo found himself focusing on every place Giroro was bandaged.

How did he get those, he wondered. Somehow they were marvelous, because bandages were for the living.

Hands reached out to support Dororo on either side as he approached, green and red. They spoke, but only their voices came through. He could make out the words later. He could stop crying later.

* * *

The rain lessened, but Kururu was in no mood to go anywhere. He'd maneuvered Tamama into the semi-shelter of the crumbled-off part of the rock pillar. It wasn't much different from dragging him into that cave days ago, except the private had felt heavier then.

Raindrops hit Tamama's face and ran to the ground. His hat, still a brownish-red, oozed purified water into the dirty puddles.

Kururu shoved aside bandage rolls as he dug through the bag, his soaked leg bandage forgotten, and found the medicine bottle he'd taken along. He gripped a hand over the lid, fingertips clenching the edges, and stopped. He needed to get under something before opening it, out of the rain.

"Hey." Kururu poked Tamama's shoulder. "I said take five, not ten. We gotta move."

Tamama's face twitched, and he squinched his eyes shut tighter, turning his head away.

"Come on, we're finding shelter. We need..." Kururu looked around. Through the fading rain mist, he could tell none of the rock pillars around would help them. He opened the laptop and hit a couple keys to contact Dororo. "Yo, we got a situation here."

There was static. Then Dororo's voice came through, his answer garbled beyond comprehension.

"Dororo, do you copy?" Static and buzzing interference. Kururu ended the call and huffed in disgust. "Dammit." He glared at Tamama, then the keyboard as he said, "This is all your fault, you know."

Kururu lifted his eyes to the screen and searched the terrain map. Not much further away, the ground rose gradually to a plateau, and a few overhangs jutted out of the rocky outcroppings closer to it. It wasn't the most ideal, but Kururu memorized the location of the nearest one anyway.

Now he needed Tamama up. Carrying wasn't an option, but walking support he could do. Kururu put the laptop in the bag and slung it over himself.

"Up, bratface." Shoulder-poking again. "Get up."

Tamama took a noisy breath and turned on his side away from Kururu, coughing. It calmed after a moment, and he pushed himself upright, only to start coughing again, as if something stuck refused to come out.

Kururu watched Tamama's hunched posture from behind. "Come on, we gotta walk."

Tamama shifted around, leaning on his hands, to look sideways at him with heavy-lidded eyes. "Where's Dororo?" Drowsy confusion replaced his previous energy.

"Busy." Kururu got his hands under Tamama's arms and pushed upward. "We're goin' somewhere a little drier."

Tamama complied, standing with Kururu supporting him from the right. Kururu took a step forward, but Tamama hung back like dead weight.

"_Walk._ Your brain can process that, right?"

Tamama shuffled one foot through a puddle, then another. Kururu continued, stuck with Tamama's pace.

Fifty feet felt like fifty miles. Tamama stumbled at almost every uneven spot, and Kururu couldn't make up for the private's poor balance on one leg alone. His bandaged wound started aching well before the halfway point; the painkillers were with Dororo. Trying to get his mind off it only led to darker thoughts.

The overhang came into sight. Tamama listed heavily against him, trying to cough up something Kururu suspected had gotten stuck over a day ago. The sudden cheer, energy, and easy descent into anger all pointed to painkiller side effects, but all covered an underlying problem. The forced stops were tests for the one symptom that didn't make sense.

Kururu didn't know what it was until he'd already made it worse.

He leaned Tamama and himself under the low overhang, and Tamama fell against the inside, sliding down to sit with a groan. Kururu sat with his bandaged right leg stretched out, gritting his teeth, and took out the antibiotics again.

Tamama blinked as Kururu opened the bottle. "Whassat for?"

Kururu unscrewed the lid and set it aside. "Take some of these." He offered the bottle to Tamama.

The private knit his brow and shook his head. "I don't need it."

"The hell you don't." Kururu scooted closer to Tamama, rain spattering on the slick rock roof overhead. "Now quit fuckin' around."

Tamama, still not comprehending, lifted an arm and reached for the open bottle.

Thunder rumbled, and Kururu looked up. He'd felt it though the ground as well.

The rock overhang collapsed on them as the space flea crashed through it.


End file.
